


Dancing with a Ghost

by songsaboutdrowning



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: 2008, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/F, I think I am too dark and tormented to write little ray of sunshine Laura Hollis tbh, London, Mentions of Violence, PTSD, Slow Burn, but I feel more comfortable writing it as fic, not quite Hate to Love but almost, this was supposed to be an original novel, tw panic attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsaboutdrowning/pseuds/songsaboutdrowning
Summary: Laura Hollis is making her way through University with very little money and few friends. She spends most of her time working in a cafe’ and trying not to fail second year. On a whim, she applies for a job Ghosting, a new technology that allows people with physical and mental disabilities to experience some of the outside world using specialist audio/video equipment worn by another person. Ghosting supposedly pays very well and Laura, attracted by the hefty paycheck as well as the novelty of the job, goes to meet the mysterious Carmilla and her brother. In spite of expectations, Laura is hired, but isn’t told why Carmilla needs the assistance of a Ghost, just that she hasn't left the house in two years. Laura is eager to investigate why...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… hi. You don’t know me because I’ve only been in this fandom for a year and never interacted with anyone. I’m very scared to post anything as for the past 5 years I only wrote in one fandom which had literally no more than a dozen people and everyone knew everyone. There are so many talented writers in the Carmilla fandom and I’ve read so many good stories and it’s a bit daunting to add mine to the mix. I originally had this idea for an original novel in 2009-2010, never developed it, and then around November of last year thought that the character profiles actually fit the characters from Carmilla quite well and perhaps writing it as fanfic would increase my motivation. I have over 30k written and I’m not even halfway through so I think it worked. But I’ve had to set the story in the past because it wouldn’t work in a world where everyone and their grandmother has a smartphone. Also I’ll be trying to use some Americanised words and spellings but the truth of the matter is, I’m a Londoner and I write about what I know, so the places and routes described are absolutely 100% taking place in England. SORRY :/

“Why should we hire you?”

Laura knew this question was coming. She may not have huge experience of job interviews, but she at least knew that this was a pretty standard conclusion, and she’d prepared an answer. She just needed to pause for a moment, and make it look like she was giving it some genuine consideration. What she really wanted to say was ‘I’m tired of making coffee, and this pays more’, instead she went for her pre-rehearsed spiel about how much she wanted to try something new, and she loved to help others. She wanted to try something new because she was poor, but they didn’t need to know that. Three days at the cafe barely covered her basic needs: rent, groceries, public transport. The girl with the red lipstick stared at her like she knew perfectly well that Laura's answer was fabricated bullshit, but she still didn't speak. She hadn't said a word throughout the entire interview.

The person asking the questions was a man, a bland looking guy with a bland name to match that Laura had already forgotten. He sighed as if he’d heard Laura’s answer a thousand times before, but if the information she’d gathered was correct, Laura was only the third person to be seen. All it had taken was a quick glance at the concierge’s appointment book when she’d shown up at the five-storey mansions, to see two other names before hers. Even if the previous two candidates had been just as unimaginative as Laura, it would still not be bad enough to warrant this guy’s look of utter boredom. It felt artificial and put on; this dude looked too ceremonious and uncomfortable to have been a recruiter for any length of time.

He didn't give Laura the chance to ask her own questions at the end. She found it odd, then again, she didn't have that much work experience, and Ghosting was still a relatively new thing and had to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis. Every situation was different. He’d clearly stated they were looking for their first Ghost and that they, too, were learning as they went along.

Laura preferred to hold his gaze rather than let it wander towards his companion, because the girl was slightly unnerving. If goths were still a thing in the 21st century, she’d be one. Pale skin, dark hair, blood red lips. She seemed thoroughly disaffected by the proceedings, like she couldn't care less who they hired, even though Laura knew that he knew that _she_ , not the guy, was the actual client. The only reason Laura even knew her name was that she’d been introduced at the beginning as Carmilla, which was a rather unusual name, very unlike her interviewer’s, who was called something forgettable like Jack or Will or Tom.

From the way they interacted with each other, Laura thought they were brother and sister, but she couldn't be sure and no one had specified anything. When he spoke, he called Carmilla by her first name, not ‘Miss Karnstein’ or ‘my client’, and when he said that Carmilla's doctor had recommended they try Ghosting, he’d sounded like he was talking about a child. He didn’t seem to _want_ to get Carmilla a Ghost any more than she seemed to want one herself.

They were looking for someone close to Carmilla in age and build. Laura had smiled and nodded as if she hadn't lied about her age on the application form - only slightly: the ad specified 21 or over, but then didn't ask for her date of birth anywhere. They did have similar body types, though, both diminutive and slim, although Carmilla looked like she hadn’t had a good meal in ages. She was bony where Laura was lean, and underneath her carefully applied foundation Laura could see dark circles under her eyes.

“That’s great, Laura.” Will or Jack or Tom said. It had to be a lie because there was no hint of any kind of emotion in his voice. “Thank you for your time today, we’ll be in touch.”

He stood up from the desk and extended his hand to her. Laura shook it and tried to sneak a look at Carmilla's body language out of the corner of her eye, to see if she would have to turn to her as well. Carmilla stayed sitting down, but Laura could swear a hint of a smirk had crossed her red lips for a split second.

-=-

When she got home, Perry all but pounced on her as if she’d returned from war. She knew that Laura usually worked the early shift on a Thursday, so when she hadn’t been home by four, she’d panicked. Laura should really learn to pre-warn her when she deviated from her routine, but with only half an hour to change out of her uniform and travel to the real-life mansion that the Karnsteins lived in, it had completely slipped her mind.

“Wheredidyougo whydidn’tyoutellme Iwassoworried!” Perry was breathless and squeezing Laura so hard it hurt. Laura came dangerously close to eating a mouthful of red curls when she tried to respond.

“I’m sorry… I had a job interview.”

This seemed to make Perry shift from frenzy to sadness. She pulled out of the hug and her shoulders sagged. Laura’s attempts to make eye contact failed.

“Look, I know I should have mentioned, but I was really nervous. It’s easier to talk about now that it’s all done.”

She made to move to the kitchen, and Perry seemed to reanimate slightly.

“What job was it for? Do you want some tea, honey? I made vegan brownies.”

Laura chuckled. Perry was great at two things: listening, and baked goods. When she wasn’t in lectures, she was usually in the kitchen. When they had guests over, they didn’t chat in the lounge like anyone else would - Perry made them sit at the kitchen table while she mixed and rolled and poured. She called everyone _honey_ and _sugar_ and other things you’d find in a pantry. Now she was pushing Laura out of the way gently, so that she could run ahead, pull out a chair and serve her an afternoon snack as if she was a VIP and not just her flatmate. Laura had an awfully sweet tooth, so they were well matched - or terribly matched, depending on the point of view.

“Ghosting,” Laura replied, half-hoping that her chewing would muffle the answer enough to not cause any drama.

Perry froze, brownie still in mid-air. “Seriously? I thought you had to be 21.”

Laura shrugged. “I’m not that far off. And they didn’t check.” Ironically, Perry was more qualified to be a Ghost. She was almost 22 and a Psychology major. However, she was also the kind of person who genuinely devoted her life to studying. She’d given up her floor don responsibilities in her last year to focus on writing her thesis. Although she was part of a couple of clubs, Laura couldn’t remember the last time Perry had gone out in the evening for some non-organised fun.  
  
Perry relaxed and took a bite of her brownie. “I’ve heard it pays well. But what if you don’t like the person you’re doing it for? You’re stuck with them for god knows how long.”

Laura thought back to Carmilla's demeanor. Perry definitely had a point. Will - she’d had to go back through her voicemails to be sure about the snooty interviewer's name - had mentioned that the initial contract was for a year, and her research so far indicated that contracts were generally very hard to break out of.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t think I did very well. The guy was huffing at me as if he’s heard it all before.”

“Who would it be for?” Perry asked.

“Some girl called Carmilla. Roughly about our age. They didn’t really say what she has.” Ghosting was usually available for people that couldn’t get out of the house because of a disability, physical or otherwise. The equipment, however, was really expensive, so it was only available to the privileged few that could afford it. There was no doubt that Will and Carmilla’s family was very well off - they lived in a historic building, in the penthouse, at that. They had their own reception desk, marble floors, and no doubt, a stunning view.  

“She seemed alright,” Laura lied, not wanting to awake the beast known as Perry’s strong maternal instincts.

“I don’t know if I want you to get it or not, to be honest.” Perry responded with her usual perkiness. She usually spoke very fast, like she was trying to catch up with her thoughts. “You read some weird things about it.”

Laura _liked_ weird.  Laura liked sci-fi and cult series with reruns at 2 in the morning that kept her up when she had a 9am lecture the next day. She liked unusual food pairings and chilli flavoured sorbet. Laura would go to the 24-hour supermarket in the middle of the night if she had a sudden craving for a particular brand of cookies. Perry liked normal. She was sensible and went to bed early when she’d had a long day. She meditated to help her concentration. She handed in essays several days before the deadline and she did not rush head-first into things.

“We’ll wait and see, right?” Perry asked.

Laura sighed. “We’ll wait and see.”

-=-

Laura was surprised to get a call inviting her back; she didn’t think she’d really stood out at the interview, she was just another student hoping to make ends meet. It wasn’t an offer just yet: Will had called it a ‘second stage’ and said there might potentially be a ‘trial’, whatever that meant. Laura had no idea what they were looking for. Her previous jobs had been straightforward enough - she needed to be bubbly, smiley and work hard for tips. Coordination usually helped, as well, when carrying plates and making hot drinks. She’d tutored children on and off, which came easy enough when you were approachable and looked half like a child yourself. Someone as pretty and well-mannered as Laura Hollis simply _had_ to be an incognito Disney princess according to most of her pupils - just one who particularly enjoyed grammar and spelling. But being someone’s eyes and ears… how could someone get _good_ at that?

Her train of thought halted abruptly as she reached her destination: the tall, red-brick mansion, with a staffed concierge desk instead of a buzzer, and an elevator with a wrought iron gate instead of a sliding door.

The girl at the desk was not the same one as last time, so Laura had to break the ice all over again when she gave her name and said she was expected up in the penthouse. Once again, she casually eyed the appointment book while she was being checked in: she was the first person on the list today, and only one other name followed hers.

It was Will who opened the door, and although he’d been the one inviting Laura, he seemed almost bothered by her presence and not really keen on small talk. He’d abandoned the pretense of the first interview’s suit and tie, and looked ready to go out with a pack of other rich boys in a blazer over a polo shirt.

“They’re upstairs,” he left it at that, as if Laura knew her way around. All she’d seen when she’d first come in was the reception desk, a sitting room that doubled as a waiting area, and then the actual room where she had interviewed, which was some sort of library. She had no idea what was upstairs, or even how to get there, and Will looked extremely inconvenienced by her ignorance. There was no one at the front desk today. On the day of her first interview, an extremely ceremonious girl called Natalie had assisted her, but today she was nowhere to be seen.

“Just go through that archway, take the stairs. Studio is the first left. They’re waiting for you in there.” No indication of who _they_ were, and why he wasn’t going to be present, after he’d sold himself as the mind behind the whole operation.

Laura was more than happy to leave him behind. She wasn’t sure what she was nervous about, but even as she walked up the stairs, she couldn’t hear any voices, and that made her uneasy. They hadn’t even bothered to leave any lights on and all the curtains were drawn, so the upper floor looked grey and ominous. She knocked on the door Will had indicated before letting herself in.

Something bright blinded her for a minute - a screen of some kind, taking up most of the wall on the right hand side. The room was tiny and dark - she could see the silhouettes of Carmilla and one other person standing either side of a table, but it took a few moments to figure out whether they were looking at her or not. Eventually, her eyes focused enough to make out the other person, a scruffy looking ginger in dungarees who was giving her a wide, toothy grin.

“The name’s LaFontaine, but just LaF is fine. The pronoun’s _they_. I’m here to help you test the equipment and to answer all your questions as best as I can. It’s nice to meet you, Laura.“

Laura took their outstretched hand and this time decided she would offer a handshake to Carmilla as well, despite her general standoffishness. She wasn’t prepared for the iciness of her skin; as if her blatant hostility had somehow found a physical manifestation. Laura shuddered, and Carmilla seemed all too happy to let go of her hand and go back to biting the skin around her nails. Maybe she _couldn’t_ speak?

LaFontaine’s voice startled her back to attention when they said, “So, Laura, I need to ask you some routine questions about your medical history. Once that’s all done, you can give these bad boys a spin.”

They patted a briefcase that rested in the middle of the table, closed. Laura guessed they were Ghosting goggles; it would make sense, considering the projector in the room. For now, LaFontaine switched on the lights and went to fetch a clipboard from the table. Laura hoped that she wouldn’t have to answer anything out loud with Carmilla standing behind her. The first interview had been okay, but these questions were bound to be more personal.

Luckily, she mostly had to tick Yes or No checkboxes, revealing whether or not she had a fear of heights or any other form of phobia. She had to select her allergies from a list and whether or not she had ever taken anti-depressants, plus go over some uncomfortable questions about her sex life that were mitigated by a “prefer not to say” option.

She could see that this was some sort of official questionnaire rather than something LaF had come up with themselves, but she was still embarrassed they’d have to read it, even if it was part of their job. Mostly, she was terrified they’d have to read it there and then and she’d see their expressions when Laura revealed that she was trained in krav maga (disbelieving), that she was single (wholly unsurprised, for sure), and that she was lactose intolerant (unfortunate, for someone with such a sweet tooth, but LaF didn’t know that).

She ticked her very last answer and held out the clipboard for LaFontaine. They glanced at the filled-out form very briefly, before declaring, “Well, I’ll have time to read this later. Now comes the fun part. Carmilla?”

Carmilla joined them around the table, resting her fingertips on the edge. Her eyes twinkled with curiosity, and Laura wondered if she was seeing the contents of the briefcase for the first time, too. LaF undid the latches on either side and opened the lid, turning it towards them both in one swift motion.

The goggles looked just like any lab equipment would, save for the single earbud attached to one side by a wire. Laura knew that there were cameras in there, but she couldn’t see where they were hidden. The glass, or plastic, looked completely see-through.

“So, this is the one piece of tech you’d have to wear if you get the job,” LaF explained, “and this is what we’re going to be testing now. We need to see if you’re comfortable wearing it. It’s okay if the goggles feel loose because I can always take your measurements and then adjust them. This is more for you to experience what you’d have to be doing as a Ghost and if anything about it makes you feel uneasy, that’s okay, it’s better to find out now than later. Okay?”

Laura nodded and stood still so that LaF could slide the goggles over her nose.

“Of course,” LaF continued, “Carmilla also needs to test if she is comfortable with this. Not with having a Ghost, there’s no backing out of that one, but she’s got equipment, too.”

They opened their arms to bring Laura’s attention back to the projector, and a pale green armchair sitting across from it. Then something came over them, a slight sadness that scrunched up their ginger eyebrows and made them say, gravely, “You know, it might turn out that you guys just can’t stand each other, and we need to know that.”

Had that happened before?

“I’m sure it will be fine, LaF.”

Carmilla _could_ talk, then. She sounded as curt and bored as her expression had been all along, but finally Laura had learnt one new thing about her: she was capable of speech.

“Laura, I’m gonna turn these on. Stay looking at me, please.” LaF typed on a laptop for a couple of seconds and then their face appeared on the screen. They looked up at Laura, then at the far wall, then back at Laura.

“That’s your point of view.” They smirked. “Now look at Carmilla.”

Laura turned to her left and, although the screen was only in her peripheral vision, she could see that Carmilla was now on it. She wasn’t sure if she should be looking at the flesh-and-blood version, or the two-dimensional one. The two were close enough to each other that Laura could see both Carmillas raise their right arm and wave their hand hello.

“When you Ghost, you are Carmilla’s eyes and ears.” LaF explained, from behind Laura. “She can see what you’re seeing on the screen, she can hear what you’re hearing on the speakers, and she can speak to you. There are microphones in the armrests.”

They patted the fabric, but Laura couldn’t see anything underneath.

“The lights in the room will be off, so she can have a fully immersive experience.”

“I apologize in advance if I fall asleep,” Carmilla said. Her tone was low, but soft. Husky, almost. “It’s my first time, too.”

Laura found Carmilla slightly less intimidating now that they were interacting, but she still resented being the first person to go through the second stage process. Will had made such a fuss about that as if it gave her any sort of advantage when, actually, she hated being the ice-breaker. They’d have to go through this with the next candidate and any more after that, and, as Carmilla gained more practice, she might feel more at ease and mistake that for comfort around another potential Ghost. Laura had spent the past two days fantasizing on what she could do with Ghosting money: get a new laptop for Uni, go visit her dad more often, maybe hire someone to clean her and Perry’s apartment once a week. She’d grown attached to those ideas and she wanted them to become reality. Which meant she really had to ace this interview, if only she could figure out how.

“I’m going to turn off the lights and ask you to leave the room, now.” LaF tucked the earbud in Laura’s left ear and went to open the door. “Carmilla will give you instructions, but I can and will intervene if anything goes wrong. You’re both new at this. Just wait at the door for now, please.”  

When the door closed behind her, Laura was buzzing from nerves, so much so that she wondered if they could hear her body vibrate on the other side.  The corridor was still in near darkness and Laura found herself trying to regulate her breathing and focus on the artwork that was hanging right in front of her in a bulky, ornate frame. She thought of what the view must be like in the studio: that same painting would now be magnified on the screen, a painting that Carmilla must walk past several times a day.

Laura was still close enough to the studio to hear the shuffling noises inside, and they also echoed back with a split-second delay through the earphone on her left. She tried to picture Carmilla sitting in the green armchair - where would LaFontaine stand? Next to her, behind her? Would they stay at the table, tapping away on their laptop?

“Give her some directions; anything.” LaF instructed.

Carmilla hummed for a long moment and then just said hello.

“Hi,” Laura said back. This might take a while.

“Hi Laura, so… if you turn right, you will see the stairs that you originally came from, if you walk past them you will come to a sitting room, can you see it?”

Laura tried to move confidently and forget that she was being guided through a stranger’s house by the means of Ghosting goggles. Her eyes had adapted to the darkness enough to make out an open space with curtains across from her, a sofa on her right against a wall, and a grand piano just beyond it. On her left, a dining table and more covered-up windows.

As if on cue, Carmilla asked, “Could you open the curtains a bit, please? It’s very dark in there.”

Laura took three steps to the nearest window and spread them wide open. They were so heavy, it felt like she was in a theatre for a moment. She heard a gasp.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah. Bit slower, kid.” LaF scolded her. They must have been blinded by the light.

The room looked far more inviting with a bit of colour in it. The furniture was in rich brown tones, and two expensive-looking rugs in burgundy and cream sat in the center of the room and underneath the piano, respectively. She could not imagine how much money Carmilla’s family had that they _owned_ all this.

“There’s a door to the terrace on your… right.” Carmilla hesitated. “It doesn’t need a key, just twist the handle up and it should open.”

“You want me to go out on the terrace?” Laura wasn’t sure if her assignment was just to open the door, and she wanted to make sure she got this right. This job had to be hers. Her resignation letter had already been written and was saved on her desktop as ‘Freedom!!!.txt’.

Carmilla seemed to ponder this for a minute. Then she said, “Yes, please.”

Laura pushed yet another curtain aside, making sure to do it slower this time, and she turned the handle exactly how she’d been told and pulled the door in. She took a step up to the terrace, but stayed in the doorway and took in the view.

The terrace was probably deeper and wider than all of Laura’s apartment. She could see the river, over the parapet, and the tops of buildings on the opposite bank - mansions, like this one, with big terraces, but no one on them enjoying the sunshine.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t come to interview on a rainy day,” she said without thinking. Someone snorted, but Laura couldn’t tell who.

“Hey, want to go all the way up to the edge? Can she look down?” LaF seemed to be asking permission.

“Yes, she can look down.” Carmilla’s voice was small, but she didn’t seem scared. Did her not leaving the house extend to the parts of it that were outdoors?

Laura was already happily on her way. She rested her arms on the cold stone and did as she was told. She could see people drinking in the back gardens of pubs that looked on to the river. She could see the shuttle ferries crossing the water in both directions, leaving white trails of foam behind them.

“Oh my god, this is so beautiful.”

“Talk less, and move your head slower, kid.” LaFontaine said. “I’m not being mean, I promise.”

It was too late. Laura was already mortified, and she wasn’t sure if she could apologize, seeing as that was talking, too.

Somewhere, a camera shutter clicked.

“Sorry about that!” LaF said. “Carm, here, can screenshot whatever you are seeing. But it’s not supposed to make a noise. Give me a second.”

Laura heard tapping on a keyboard and then LaF saying, “Try again?”

This time, she didn’t hear any clicks.

“I’ll show you later where they save and how to access them,” she assumed LaF was talking to Carmilla. "Once my work here is done, we can set you up with your own laptop. Maybe even a touchscreen."

"Depending how stingy my brother's feeling?" Carmilla asked. She'd probably forgotten Laura could hear her.

"Something like that, kiddo."

"Don't call me that, creampuff." Carmilla snapped back.

LaF chuckled. "Point taken."

"Uhm, guys?"  Laura still hadn't moved from the parapet and, as much as she was enjoying the view, she had no idea what else they expected her to do on this assessment.

"Well, I can see you're not afraid of heights." LaF shifted their attention back to her. "Even though that's just a standard question, and there is nothing to say you'd need to work at heights for Miss Carmilla, here."

"Speak for yourself," Carmilla said. "I was going to send her on top of a mountain and snowboard her way down."

Although she was pretty sure it was a joke, Laura shuddered. She'd tried not to research Ghosting in too much detail because she knew it would put her off, but she wanted the money, and she was ready to work hard for it. Even if it meant snowboarding down a mountain while broadcasting her sheer terror into Carmilla's little studio room. Her screams would probably deafen the poor girl; surely that couldn’t be beneficial.

"Laura, please do not worry." LaF seemed unimpressed. "Ghosting contracts are pretty binding. They can't make you do anything you haven't agreed to upfront."

So, no hour of unpaid overtime wiping tables every night. Laura could get used to that.

But when Carmilla said, "I think she should come back in now," she thought maybe she wasn't cut out to be a Ghost.

-=-

 _Weirdest thing you had to do as a Ghost?_  
_Who do you Ghost for?  
_ _Equipment you’d like to try?_

Laura had perhaps left it a little late to actually do some research on internet forums, but she didn't need any negativity going into her interviews. She didn't want to read something that would put her off the entire experience.

Of course, she was doing it now because she thought her chances were slim, and it was the right time to delve deeper into the risks that came with Ghosting. Risks that, apparently, came in the form of forum threads titled _Ghosting is a job, not a fetish!!!!_

There were people who Ghosted for children with severe disabilities. Things got tricky then; when the children were nonverbal, it would be a parent or a guardian who acted as Ghostee. There were those who weren’t allowed out after extensive surgery and still wanted to be able to experience the world. No one yet was taking advantage and employing a Ghost out of laziness or social status; it was far too expensive to hire out the equipment and also remunerate a person, so it had stayed the domain of people in real need, for now. Rich people didn’t want Ghosts; they wanted cleaning ladies and au pairs and family helpers, but they didn’t need to re-live the moments when they bought groceries or scrubbed their toilets.  

Most of the Ghosts seemed to know what disability their Ghostee had before they took on a contract: it was practical, and an act of bonding. There had been no further word on why Carmilla needed a Ghost, but from what Laura could see, she was able-bodied. She looked like a lot of girls Laura’s age, or maybe a little older. She wore makeup and skinny jeans. Maybe, if Laura got the job, she’d be bold and ask why she never left the house.

She decided to sign up to the forum as a silent observer, for now, unsure yet if she was ever going to be a Ghost. It had been almost a week since her second interview and she hadn't heard a word from either LaF or Will. She thought LaF liked her - and as Carmilla's case worker, she hoped they might maybe put in a good word for her. Laura wanted to be able to say something more exciting than 'waiting tables' when her dad's friends asked what she was doing for a living in the big city. Who knew, she might even pick Ghosting as the topic for her senior thesis, if she gained enough experience. She could be one of the very first to write about the subject academically.

She looked at her phone, wishing for an outcome at the very least, even a rejection as long as it would put her out of her misery. She was surprised to see a message from Danny, instead; Laura’s phone didn’t really get much action most of the time. At University, she was sociable, but didn’t have many friends - Perry was the exception. In first year, Perry had been Laura’s floor don and, although most people found her entirely too intense, Laura appreciated having someone so organized in her life. When she decided to move out of halls, there was no one else she trusted enough to ask to be her flatmate but Perry. Most other students would remember Laura’s name and, at a push, her major; but not many knew what her interests were or what she did outside of school. She found making friends hard, like she was constantly faking it. And although “fake it ‘til you make it” was said to work for many people, Laura wasn’t one of them. At work, after six months of fending off 3am texts from drunken colleagues asking her to cover for them, Laura had stopped giving her number out altogether. Only her manager had it now. Back home she had one good friend, Betty; they didn’t speak as much as they used to, but she always managed to make Laura feel like they hadn’t spent any time apart at all. She and Betty wrote to each other irregularly, with long, elaborate emails whenever something big happened. Sometimes they’d Skype three times in a week, sometimes there’d be nothing for a month, depending on their schedules.

_Hollis, want to come out for a catch-up? It’s been a month!_

Laura had been out with Danny twice before and she hadn’t been sure if they’d been dates, or just hangouts. Most of the time, she couldn’t make up her mind which she would have preferred. There wasn’t much reason for her and Danny to be friends, they were too different. If they'd been dating, it would have at least made sense to look beyond their differences, as long as there was an attraction there. And on Laura's part, there definitely was, because Danny was gorgeous; she was the kind of person everyone at Uni was at least aware of, even if they didn’t know her personally. Danny was noticeable in many ways: tall, bright red hair, Vice President of Student Welfare. Laura was the complete opposite: tiny, forgettable and awkward in most situations. For example, when it came to discussing the nature of her interactions with Danny.

On Danny's part, there was either the same shyness or a lack of romantic interest, so they were stuck in a vicious cycle. Still, getting out of the house could only do Laura some good. Her ‘quick five minutes’ of browsing the forums had already turned into fifty and, if she stayed in, she knew it was likely to turn into five hours and lots of worrying. Perry also wouldn't be the calmest counsel once Laura explained what she'd found on the internet; Danny, on the other hand, could maybe offer an unbiased perspective.

When she got to Starbucks, Danny already had her favourite drink waiting for her on the table, and she'd even remembered to ask for soy milk. Laura smiled as she sat down, and half-hoped the hot chocolate would drown the butterflies in her stomach.

"So. How's life, Lawrence?"

They slid into chit-chat easily, feeling as if they’d only just last seen each other yesterday, Laura wondering when she should bring up the Ghosting, if at all. Was there any point discussing it with Danny when she might not even get the job? Everyone knew, though, that Laura had been wanting to quit waitressing for a few months now, so the question inevitably came, and Laura hated lying.

"Found a new job yet? The applications for next year's paid officials position open at the end of this month."

Danny was a graduand and her position at Student Welfare was about to be vacant. It didn't pay as well as Ghosting, but it would have made much more logical sense on Laura's CV. She wanted to be a journalist, and being in charge of a small team of people in her last year of University would probably show she had the leadership skills needed for her career. On the other hand, being someone’s 21st-century glorified version of a maid did not.

"You're not gonna believe this," Laura replied, giddy. "I've applied for a Ghosting job."

"Seriously, Hollis? Ghosting?"

The butterflies stopped. "Why do you look so surprised?"

"Didn't know there was much demand for Ghosts around these parts. I swear in the three years I've been here I've maybe seen one?"

"It costs money to be a Ghostee." Laura reasoned. "Not everyone can do it."

“Same as being a sugar daddy,” Danny rolled her eyes. “But without the sex part."

Laura forced her smile to stay on. She'd never seen Danny quite so deadpan before. "I don't see what's so wrong with helping someone in need."

"That's very _you_ ," Danny mumbled, "and I can't fault it. It just seems like such a weird career path for someone who wants to be a journalist, I guess."

"I don't have to Ghost forever." Laura shrugged. "Besides, I don't even know if I'll get the job. I've already had two interviews, and I've not heard from them since last Wednesday."

Predictably, Danny asked who it would be for, just like Perry had before her.

"Her name is Carmilla. They haven't given me her backstory. I guess that's only if I do get it."

Danny took a sip of her drink. "And what would you have to do for her?"

"Depends. That'll be on the contract, if I get it. But I'm guessing things like... being outside? I don't really know what she likes to do. I hope she doesn't send me to watch sports. No offense."

Danny was _really_ into sports, which was probably the one thing Laura found most off-putting if they were ever to date. Well, that and the height difference.

“God forbid you go out and do something fun, Hollis,” Danny rolled her eyes.

“Look, I really want this job. I’m so fed up of never having money to do anything nice for myself. My shoes are falling apart, and I can never even order a pizza. It’s always Perry who offers. All my money goes on rent, and I walk the 35 minutes here and back when I have classes just so I don’t have to pay the bus fare.”

Laura realised that Danny probably wasn’t too familiar with her money problems, because really, they didn’t know each other _that_ well. They’d met in an optional module so obscure, it welcomed people from all years and even so, never had more than 10 students. Laura thought Ancient Greek would be fun and if nothing else, she’d learn a funky new alphabet and could encrypt her writing whenever she swapped note-taking for journalling in class. Danny studied Classics, so she actually needed the module. They’d stayed back to talk after each class and studied for the exam together, but neither had ever revealed much about her personal life.

Danny sighed; perhaps she was out of her depth. She made an effort to sound positive. “Look, if you want to get the job I’ll be sending you good vibes, it’s the least I can do. And if it doesn’t work out, you can apply for VP when I go. You know it’s paid. Probably not as well as Ghosting, but probably not as draining, either.”

How Danny would know that Ghosting was draining when she’d only ever seen one person do it remained a mystery, but Laura didn’t argue it. She was looking for a chance to change the subject, maybe find out how Danny’s thesis was coming along. She focused on very little of what was being said and tried to picture herself in a relationship with Danny - would their class difference be a problem? What would happen when she said that she couldn’t go along to the bar crawl, or the end-of-year dinner, or the day trip to the theme park?

Laura still sent all that she could to her dad. Her mother had died in an accident while she was in first year, leaving him in debt and with a mortgage to pay. Laura’s first job had been to help him out, but she’d had to quit at the end of the year when she’d gone back home for the summer. She’d taken all the work she could then, walking people’s dogs and helping their kids with English. At the start of second year, she’d moved out of the dorms and into a small flat with Perry, found the job in the cafe and been there three days a week ever since.

“I’m probably not going to get it, anyway. I don’t get the impression that she likes me very much.”

“Who on earth wouldn’t like you, Hollis? You’re as cute as a button.”

Laura’s skin prickled at the compliment and she looked down into what was left of her hot chocolate.  

-=-

The call came when she was working, of course. Her phone was stuck in her locker, and she saw the missed call and the voicemail on her lunch break. Laura never left the cafe on her lunch break and she knew that if she ran out to listen to the message it would look suspicious, so she hid in the toilet.

Will had recorded a brief, formal greeting, then blurted out “So, Laura, we would like to offer you the position” and even so, Laura felt a reluctance in his voice, as if he was reading out a script. She opened the tap, hoping it’d be loud enough to muffle her conversation so her manager didn’t hear it, but not so loud that Will would think she was peeing whilst accepting the position. She arranged to go and sign a contract that same day.

She didn’t tell her dad, or Perry, or even Betty. Not just yet. She wanted to make sure there was no catch in the contract, she wanted to make sure that it was real. The end of her shift came particularly slow that afternoon. When she took off her apron, she all but ran out and sprinted to the Karnstein mansion. Her appointment was at five, so she didn’t need to rush, but she couldn’t wait for it to be final. She wanted her name, black on white, on a dotted line, next to a three-digit-per-day wage for a period of minimum twelve months. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know what, exactly, she was getting herself into. Her life had to change somehow and this was as good an opportunity as anything else.

She didn’t expect them to all be there. Natalie, as a sort of formality, she guessed, welcoming her to the house and reminding her what the way was, in case she’d forgotten. Will, Carmilla and LaFontaine, back in the room where she’d originally interviewed, all sitting on the same side of the table while she took her place across from them, alone, trying to slow down her heart rate through sheer willpower. Carmilla was back to not talking at all and was looking longingly at the door as if she wanted to bolt. Will, in the middle, was telling her to take all the time she needed reading and understanding all the terms and conditions of her employment. There was still time to agree on slight changes if there was anything she was unhappy with.

LaF had already done their part, and explained that they were Carmilla’s case worker so, realistically, they wouldn’t interact with Laura all that much unless her equipment started malfunctioning. They’d have regular meetings with Carmilla, however, to see if she was feeling any benefit from the Ghosting and to give her ideas how to get the best out of it. Laura was a little sad that she wouldn’t get to see LaF as much. They’d seemed the only person with some sort of humanity to them and a genuine likeability. Instead, she was going to be left working with the two Karnsteins, who made it look like not playing well with others was a sort of family trait.

An explanation of Carmilla’s circumstances never quite arrived. It was mentioned that she hadn’t left the house in two years. There had been no detail as to why, though. The list of approved activities by Laura’s contract all seemed pretty ordinary and did not include working at heights and snow sports after all. If she’d been more comfortable, she would have made a joke about it. She’d also had to bring in her passport, just to show that it was in date, in case they asked her to travel abroad. They’d seen her birth date, and they’d said nothing.

She tried to look at Carmilla, but found that she wasn't looking back. Her eyes were lost somewhere in the distance; strands of wavy hair falling in front of her face acted like a shield. Will was staring down at his paperwork, pretending to be engrossed in something. Only LaF returned Laura’s gaze with a smile and nodded towards the contract in front of her.

Laura had been given a small folder with a plastic cover, which was labelled a “Ghosting Handbook” and bore the logo of the National Health Service. It wouldn’t reveal any information that would likely change Laura’s mind and, when she started flipping through it there and then, Will looked displeased, as if she was wasting his time. LaF noticed, and suggested she could read that at home.

Mostly, it seemed to be a troubleshooting guide. It had to be as generic as possible, as it was given to every single Ghost. On the front page, a summary sheet containing the Karnsteins’ address and phone number had already been pre-filled for her. She pushed the booklet aside, trying not to show her frustration, and signed both copies of the contract.

“I’ll see Laura out, if we’re all done here,” LaF added, sensing the awkwardness in the room. Laura was secretly grateful that Will wasn’t the last person she’d see, at least this once. Once she started working, it would have to be him or Carmilla who walked her to the door. But by that point she could probably find her own way out of the house.

She thanked them both and thought Will looked exasperated and worn out, whilst Carmilla pointedly did not make eye contact with her. Laura didn’t offer to shake hands with either of them; she felt like she was being punished, and she wasn’t sure what for.

LaF walked one step ahead of her, back out of the room and past the now-empty reception desk. They held their hand out to shake, and as Laura took it, her breath caught in her throat when she felt a piece of paper press against her skin.

“Kiddo, this is more of a big deal than it seems.” LaF kept their voice low, and shot a nervous glance in the direction of the room they’d just come from. “My number’s here if you need anything, and I mean it. We’re all counting on you.”

All _who_? The girl who only spoke to Laura when she absolutely had to? Or the guy who didn’t seem to care that his sister was in such bad health she needed a Ghost?

Stupefied, Laura struggled to even say okay back. She babbled, holding the scrap in place with her thumb, then slid her hands into her pockets and nodded briefly. The next time she was here, LaF wouldn’t be around, and the urgency in their voice wasn’t doing anything to reassure her. She bolted out of the house and took the stairs because she couldn’t bear waiting for the elevator with LaF still staring through the front door. She sauntered down, with an energy she didn’t feel, wondering what the hell she’d managed to get herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from the song "Slow Disco" by St. Vincent. Her new album came out today and I loved that particular song so I quickly changed my working title.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura's first shift as a Ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to chapter 2! I will try and post an update every weekend either Fri, Sat or Sun depending when I’m working, until I catch up with what I’ve written (which hopefully will not happen, because I’ll have written more in the meantime… at least that's the idea)  
> If anyone wants to proofread or offer comments about characterization, please let me know (especially if I’ve already read and liked some of your fic). I’m particularly worried that I’m making Laura too dark and tormented because I’m not used to writing 19 year old balls of sunshine... my usual type is "late 20s pop singer with major anxiety problems who believes she’s a witch" ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

When Perry returned that night, Laura was sitting at the kitchen table, with a glass of soy milk next to her and the Ghosting Handbook open on Chapter 2: _Head Movement Dos and Don’ts_.

“I got the job,” she hollered in the general direction of the hallway.

Perry stormed into the kitchen, without even taking her jacket off. “That’s so great, sweetie! When are you resigning from the cafe?”

“Tomorrow. I’ve had my resignation letter written since before my first interview.” _Freedom!!!.txt_. “In two weeks, I will officially be a Ghost, earning Ghost money!” She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face saying that. She couldn’t wait to have a better life. Perhaps she could feel more like an equal rather than just someone Perry had taken under her wing.

“We should celebrate! Do you want to invite Danny over?” Laura rolled her eyes. She didn’t like it when Perry played matchmaker. To be fair to her flatmate, it didn’t happen very often, but Laura wished she’d never mentioned that she found Danny attractive. Maybe Perry was tired of sharing her friends with Laura, who didn’t have her own. Laura knew people from lectures; some, she’d done group presentations with. She just wasn’t close with any of them. After the first few months of Uni, the excitement of being on her own without parents had waned, and then her mother had passed away and it was a miracle that Laura had finished the year at all.

Her answer was a decisive no. Danny would probably be disappointed, too, that Laura wasn’t going to apply to be an official instead, so she’d find little to celebrate in her appointment as a Ghost. But most of all, Laura didn’t know if she should celebrate anything yet. LaF’s parting words had left her tense and uncertain that this was really what she wanted to do, but the memory of that episode was for her, and her only. There was no point sharing it and getting her one friend here - two, if she included Danny - to worry.

Perry went back to the hallway to remove her jacket, her shoes and put away her keys. Laura called after her.

“We can get Chinese, though, if you want. My treat.” It seemed as good a reason as any to tap into the last of her emergency money.

“Oh no, it’s okay, sweetie,” Perry resurfaced in the doorframe, fidgeting nervously with her hands. “Chinese always makes me really thirsty at night.”

Laura forced out a smile and watched Perry disappear into her room. Next up on her list was telling her dad, and she might as well get it over with now. Maybe that one would be easier.

=

Her last day at the cafe’ was also her first day Ghosting. She didn’t have a break in between, she just did the early morning shift, hung up her brown apron just before lunchtime, only to never pick it up again. Her manager let her have lunch on staff allowance even though she hadn’t worked enough hours that day to earn it, and his final thank you had seemed genuine and regretful. Laura knew she’d been the hardest working person in that shop, and she was proud of that. She told the team she’d pop in from time to time to see them all again, but she didn’t mean it.

She got to the mansion just before two, and felt just a bit more confident this time when greeting the concierge. She knew that the Karnsteins would probably have passed on her name and a description and said that she was an authorized person. She didn’t wait to be waved over to the elevator, she headed straight for it; like she belonged. She had a look in the mirror to make sure she didn’t look too tired, then took her hair out of her ponytail and tried to fluff it up a little. Maybe if she earned enough Ghosting she could put highlights in her hair again; blond hair looked better on her, she thought. The elevator dinged, and the concierge must have done their job right, because the door to the penthouse was wide open. She smiled; she could do this.

Except there was no one in sight when she went in: no one at the desk, no one in the sitting room just behind it.

“Hello?” She wasn’t sure who she should call for, if anyone at all. There was a stillness in the air, and Laura couldn’t hear a single noise. She stood for a moment before she decided to just start towards the stairs that took to the studio room - the Ghosting room, she supposed she should call it. The staircase was in darkness just like last time and Laura couldn’t see a light switch, so she almost collided face-first into Carmilla halfway up.

“My brother has decided to make my life difficult, I see.” No hello, no how are you. Just a death glare in the general direction of the front door, followed by a sigh so theatrical it drowned out Laura’s apology.

“He’s down there somewhere. Who do you think opened the door? He just can’t be bothered with basic pleasantries. Come on up.”

Dumbstruck, Laura followed Carmilla to the studio. The lights were on, and the words NO SIGNAL were floating across the screen in large black letters. The goggles rested on their charger on an otherwise empty table, and out the corner of her eye, Laura noticed a notepad perched on the chair’s armrest that she thought looked like a list of ideas.

“I, uhm…” Carmilla tucked her hands in the pockets of her jeans and shifted her weight from her tiptoes to her heels. She seemed to really struggle with eye contact most of the time, so she just focused on the goggles to her side.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m nervous too.” Laura heard herself saying. “Why would they leave us alone to decide what to do?”

She might have lied about being 21, but she felt like it would have been nice to have the guidance of an adult on this. For LaF to break the ice, even for Will to intrude and tell them what to do, so that they were just following someone else’s orders. Not that either of them appeared to be that much older than Laura and Carmilla themselves.

“They want to disrupt the process as little as possible. All ideas should come from me, you know, that kind of thing. LaF told me to write down some bullet points.” Carmilla turned to the armchair, to her notepad. She picked it up, and sat down to stare at it like she’d forgotten everything it said already. “There’s a lot of stuff that I’d like to do after two years.”

She looked up then, dark eyes hopeful, but confused. She made no move to hand the notepad over to Laura and share the list with her.

“Honestly, it would be nice if you could just take a walk around the neighbourhood. I mean, we gotta start somewhere. I don’t even know if anything’s changed.”

Laura gulped, and felt blindly for the edge of the table, trying to reach the goggles without breaking eye contact. She forced her lips into a smile. “That sounds doable,” she said. “Anywhere in particular you want me to go?”

She started putting on her equipment, and Carmilla took advantage of that to turn herself around in the chair and fix her gaze on the wall.

“Not for the minute. I guess we’ll play it by ear.”

Laura tucked in her earphone. “Ready when you are,” she said to the back of Carmilla’s head.

“You remember the way out?”

=

Laura didn’t know what she expected, going out into the streets. She assumed that if two under-25s could live in the penthouse of a five storey red brick building, then surely the neighbourhood would also be immaculate. There would be no litter or dog shit on the pavement. People would walk around in top hats and tails; new mothers would push their babies around in antique prams with wheels as big as a bike’s; children would be trained to walk in silence instead of chasing after each other on scooters.

That wasn’t the case. 

It looked like most other neighbourhoods, from her limited life experience: her parents’ house out West, the area around the University, her flat with Perry. Terraced houses blending one into the other until one came along that was an unusual colour, like blue or green. Small blocks here and there, never more than three floors high, a school, a park. She hadn’t heard a word from Carmilla other than an occasional intake of breath. The Handbook said that this was okay, but it also said to listen out for changes in mood, like gasps and sighs. Eventually she thought she’d better check in, in case she was causing Carmilla any stress.

“Are you okay? Am I going too fast?”

“No, no, it’s just…” She trailed off. “This is going to sound stupid.”

Laura didn’t push it.

“Sometimes I see a shop that wasn’t there before and I suddenly remember about the passing of time, you know?”

That was the most articulate Carmilla had been in the short time they’d known each other. The words tumbled out of her in a rush, like she wasn’t used to speaking in full sentences. Her voice was velvety soft and always, always sounded completely aloof.

“Yeah, I get it.” Laura said. Mostly, she was growing concerned with the looks she’d been getting from a few people when they noticed her goggles: if she could see them, then Carmilla could, as well. And for someone who was, in a way, going outside for the first time in years, it couldn’t possibly be pleasant to be stared at. But Carmilla gave no sign of even noticing, let alone being bothered by it.

Laura reached what must be the main shopping road and, without thinking, stopped at a corner to take in her choices. A small supermarket, a coffee shop, an Italian restaurant. She was waiting for instructions on where to turn next, but unexpectedly, the voice in her ear just said, “Purple cake.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry. Sorry. That coffee shop, see the one called Black’s? It used to make purple cake. I think it was lavender. Do you mind going to see if they still have it? You don’t need to go in, just look through the window.”

Because that wasn’t going to look creepy, a girl in Ghosting goggles peeking into a room full of people. Still, it wasn’t like she had a choice. This was her job. She only hoped the pleasantries would stop sooner rather than later, because there were only so many times that Laura could hear _do you mind_ and _could you please_ about things that she knew she had to do anyway.

Laura crossed the road and made her way up to the glass, walking right up to it so that her goggles almost touched it. Her eyes darted left and right along the countertop, but she couldn’t see any cakes that weren’t in normal shades of brown.

“Dammit,” Carmilla said. “I would’ve asked you to buy some.”

“Actually, you never gave me any money earlier.” Laura pointed out. It wasn’t mandatory, really, for a Ghostee to give their Ghost some spending cash, but she did expect it to happen at some point. Carmilla cursed under her breath, and Laura felt small.

“It’s fine, you could always just pay me back.” She offered, unconvincingly. She wasn’t really keen on lending her new employer money that she hadn’t even earned yet, but luckily it was just for show this time.

Carmilla changed the subject. “You know if you walk down the street, after the bend, there’s a book store. Could you… could you go there, please?”

This was more like it. _Pay me to visit bookstores, Carmilla Karnstein, that’s the dream._ She was only sorry that Ghosting equipment didn’t have any olfactory option, because Laura always thought that half a bookstore’s charm was in its smell.

She circled the very first table, at the very front of the store, remembering to slow down because she wasn’t shopping for herself. She focused on each book for two, three seconds - that’s how long the Handbook said it would take to read a short sentence on the Ghostee’s screen. Instead of zig-zagging her way through the covers based on what colours and words attracted her most, Laura had to forget that she was a person, and browse around the way Carmilla liked to. Except she had no idea what that was.

“Carmilla?” She murmured in the most discreet way she could manage. “What do you like?”

Silence.

“I like the orange one, with the telescope,” came the voice. Uncertain, embarrassed. “Could you turn it round so that I read the back?”

Laura had meant to ask about which section she should go to, she didn’t mean _what do you like_ right here and right now. But this worked, too. They moved around the bookshop like this, Carmilla asking to look at titles and blurbs. She made Laura open this and that, erratically, every time a cover photo or a colour caught her eye; she made comments on the font and the exact shade of the pages, and Laura let her.

“I know I can buy books online,” Carmilla said as if to justify herself, “but I like to look at them.” Perhaps she was using the screenshot function right now and building up a wish list.

As she picked up thrillers, classics, and and Young Adult novels, Laura repeated over and over in her mind that this wasn’t a conversation, that she _was_ Carmilla for a day... or for several days a week. She shouldn’t have any trouble fading into the background - it had literally got her through almost two years of University already.

She stayed in the bookstore until closing time. An apologetic sales advisor took a step towards her and before she could remember that she was Ghosting and not just being Laura, she’d said sorry and stormed out, embarrassed.

“That was a little overdramatic, cupcake.” Carmilla chuckled. Laura didn’t need a reminder of her presence in her ear.

“Sorry, I don’t like to be a nuisance in shops… I used to work in one. Until this morning, in fact.”

“It’s all good. I guess everywhere’s going to be closing round about now.” Carmilla said. “Wanna come back?”

Laura walked back to the mansion with her goggles on, unsure if Carmilla was still watching or not. She had to keep the video link open until she crossed the threshold, that was the rule. The Ghostee had to feel as if they were coming home. Neither of them had said a word in the past few minutes, and it was so easy to forget that someone else was out there, listening, and Laura wasn’t just on a leisurely stroll. It had been easy to lose the self-consciousness that came with being two people at the same time, and Laura had no trouble readjusting to just her own little self.

She didn’t even attempt to make eye contact with the concierge - although she must have seen her leave the building, Laura still didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to the goggles. She got in the elevator, up to the top floor, and rang the doorbell. Will opened this time.

“Back already?” He asked, seemingly displeased.

Laura wasn’t expecting conversation, and she certainly wasn’t expecting conflict. She stayed rooted in place, observing his features. His colouring was similar to Carmilla’s. Brown hair, pale skin, but his eyes were a lighter colour than Carmilla’s deep brown: grey or green, perhaps. He had a hint of stubble on his cheeks and looked perhaps a bit older than his age - he must only be about 20 or so, younger than Carmilla for sure. Perhaps the beard was an affectation, an attempt to look more mature.

“All the shops closed down,” she stammered, wondering if she should even be justifying herself. She’d been gone for less than three hours, overall. Clearly it wasn’t enough.

Will stepped aside to let her in, without a word, but he shook his head just once, to really ram in the idea that he was not satisfied. All that was missing was loud tutting to make him look like a miserable old man. Laura passed him without looking back and started towards the stairs.

Uncertain if she could just let herself in, she knocked on the studio door and waited for Carmilla to invite her. Only when she was through did she remove her headgear.

Carmilla was back to not making eye contact again. She’d swivelled her chair around, and the wall opposite the screen was the focus of her attention this time. Laura had to pretend that this was absolutely normal. It wasn’t easy to talk to someone whose entire body was turned towards her but whose mind was clearly elsewhere. She had to break the ice somehow, and although it was only her first day, these awkward hellos and goodbyes twice a day were bound to become tedious.

“So… what did you think?” She asked.

“It was good,” Carmilla said, biting her lip.

“Right, I’ll just leave these here.” Gingerly, Laura put the goggles back on the charging cradle and took a step back.

“Same time on Sunday?” She hoped she’d look up and manage to meet Carmilla’s gaze this time, but no such luck.

“I’ll remember the money next time.” Carmilla murmured. “See you soon.”

Laura left the door open when she walked out - she didn’t see any reason why Carmilla would want to stay in a dark, suffocating room for the rest of her evening. But the claustrophobic little studio seemed to suit Carmilla just fine. No steps echoed behind Laura’s; the only sound she heard was a quiet thank you and then she was hopping down the stairs.

=

As far as first days went, it had gone pretty well, and that was what Laura was going to tell anyone who asked. Which was just going to be Perry, surely. She doubted anyone she knew would ever even catch her wearing her Ghosting goggles; she couldn’t imagine being sent to attend one of her own lectures with them on, unless Carmilla had an unexpected interest in Investigative Journalism.

It bothered her incredibly, not knowing the reasons she was doing the job in the first place, but did it matter? Maybe spending more time on the Ghosting forums would have given her a better idea of how much, exactly, she was supposed to interact with Carmilla over her headset, and how much of it should just be soundless, mindless following instructions. She had read the Ghosting Handbook cover to cover twice, already, but it mostly focused on technical problems, movement and signal, not on the kind of relationship one should create to their Ghostee.

Was it too soon to text LaF and ask for help?

Perry wasn’t in when she got home, and Laura didn’t know if she should be sad or relieved. If she’d had to recount her day to her flatmate, it would have sounded dull and ordinary, but being left alone with her thoughts was even worse. She stood in the middle of her room, feeling different forces pull her in all sorts of directions. She could go online, make herself known on the Ghosting forums. She could grab a book and try and take her mind off things. Some of the novels Carmilla had seemed interested in caught her attention, too - what’s not to like about some lesbian vampire romance? - and she considered putting them on her own wishlist. She could text Danny, and talk to her instead of Perry, at least until her credit ran out.

Eventually, she found herself staring at a blank Word document. _My life as a Ghost_ , she typed at the top. She knew that if she got going, she could probably churn out a two-page journal entry about what had basically been a trip to the bookstore and a walk around a new neighbourhood.

So she did.

An hour and a half later, she’d read her article twice and wondered if she should share it anywhere. It seemed like everybody had a blog these days, and supposedly it could plump up her resume ever so slightly.

Perry still wasn’t home.

She went on Blogger and made an account.

=

_**Day 1** _

_I can’t say that I did huge amounts of research into Ghosting before applying for a job. I was lured in by the salary, as much as I hate to be so materialistic. It was more than double my hourly pay at a downtown, tourist-laden, circle-of-hell coffee shop that I was more than happy to leave. But I did do some research after that, and my biggest takeaway is: I’m supposed to know the reasons that keep my Ghostee home-bound and needing vicarious interaction, but I don’t. My first shift was today, and we were very awkwardly left to our own devices, just two girls in their early twenties who had only met twice before, and never alone. She has a case worker, who I’ve met, but they’re not a doctor, and despite some perfunctory questions, I believe they’re more concerned with the health of our equipment than our own._

_I’ve felt out of my depth before. Dealing with funeral arrangements when you’re barely 18 will do that to you. But even then, I had my Dad with me. There was someone I could ask if I was doing anything wrong. I suppose if I was Ghosting for a child, then there would be parents involved, and I’m wondering if that wouldn’t have been better for me. But I can’t write this as if there are thousands of Ghosting jobs going every day, because we all know very well there aren’t. Even in a big city, which I’m not going to name because I don’t want to be easily identifiable, this was the first time I’d seen an advert, and the first time I’d been old enough to actually respond,_ she lied.

_Having a bit more direction wouldn’t have hurt. People tell me all the time that I’m a people-pleaser, and maybe they’re right. But I can’t be a people-pleaser if I don’t know exactly what’s expected of me. In that respect, making coffee is a lot easier. You know what goes into a drink, and if your customer’s not happy, you just make the drink again. Today, I wandered about aimlessly in a rather affluent neighborhood and I spent almost an hour in a bookstore, so I can hardly complain. Before you point out that my Ghostee could buy her books on Amazon - of course she can, she said so herself. But she seems to be a visual person, and there’s nothing wrong with that. She’ll probably end up buying online what she (I mean I) saw in person today. Or I can go and get it for her next time, I suppose. My contract says I’ll be Ghosting minimum two times a week, but it might increase as soon as exams are out of the way. I’m a student, if you hadn’t guessed._

_When I got back, the person that she lives with seemed to not be happy with how long I was gone, meaning that I should have been out for longer. He’s the one that hired me, and it’s all very well to tell me at the end of my day that I could have done better - where was he when we were trying to decide what to do, just the two of us? Although, I have to say, he seems altogether unpleasant and as much as my Ghostee doesn’t seem to speak much at all, I think I’d rather just deal with her and learn together as we go along._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on tumblr btw at songsaboutdrowning (for writings, but they are all Florence + the Machine related) and florencefckinghatesyou (make sure you miss out that u) although tbh I go on tumblr on average once every 2 months


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's shift number two for Laura and she goes shopping for trinkets, however something happens that leaves Carmilla a little shaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, all! Hope you have recovered from the Carmilla movie! we had a few people over today for our 2nd viewing and we had pizza and cupcakes and it was really lovely.  
> quick warning for this chapter that although it's nothing detailed or graphic, some symptoms of panic attacks are described, in case this could potentially upset you.

Laura had a love-hate relationship with markets. She loved to spend hours looking at trinkets, pretty things that someone had invested their time and creativity on. However, she hated the way her brain tried to convince her that she absolutely needed a Tardis-shaped mug she couldn’t afford, or a Dark Willow action figure. When she worked at the coffee shop, she got paid every two weeks, and she tried to put away ten dollars from each paycheck to get herself the occasional treat, but that, too, had had to stop when her mom died.

The positive thing about Carmilla sending her shopping was that she had no time and no business looking at things for herself. It didn’t matter what she liked and what she wanted. She had some cash in her pocket that wasn’t hers, and someone else was going to tell her where to go and what to buy. She had to try to de-personalise herself. It was going to be the same as last time, but today she had longer, and she actually had money. She wondered if the instant gratification of shopping would give her an endorphin boost, or if she’d feel sadder because none of it was for her.

Laura hated haggling. She was too shy to ever try, and she hoped Carmilla didn’t make her. She definitely had enough money to pay full price for anything that she fancied - Laura knew they’d be looking for some jewellery. Before she’d left for the day, Carmilla had taken off two rings - one from her thumb, one from the tip of her finger, and had Laura try them on to make sure they wore a similar size. Her wearing jewellery wasn’t something that Laura had noticed before, but then again, Carmilla took up so little space, and the room they worked in was so dark, with its thick, grey curtains like an old-fashioned cinema. The dark red lipstick was the only touch of colour that Carmilla allowed herself most of the time and although Laura did remember her always wearing the same choker, she’d never really paid much attention to her hands.

Carmilla wanted some new rings in the same size as the ones she had, from either one of two well-known Sunday markets. Both were pretty far from the mansions, so Laura had had to take the subway, and effectively interrupt their video link for a little while. It wasn’t ideal, especially on only their second outing, but it gave Laura the opportunity to study how many people in the carriage were taking notice of her equipment altogether. The beauty of living in a big city, she guessed, was that people just didn’t care much; aside from one old woman who frowned at her, a technophobe no doubt, and a child who stared for several minutes before loudly asking his mother what “those” were. She made it to her destination in one piece, where most days she would be frustrated by humanity’s built-in selfishness, today she was almost grateful.

She emerged from the station into a grey street, misty with drizzle and crowded with loud tourists. She’d been here before, so she knew where the entrances were. She headed to the nearest one without asking Carmilla if she had a favourite route - she knew that the stalls wound around in a serpentine shape, with entry and exit points at every bend, and she would eventually pass every single one. She was sure Carmilla would stop her when she saw something she liked.

Different stalls were playing different music, some from boomboxes that looked like they should have been left in the 80s, others from wall-mounted, modern, tiny speakers that looked far too advanced for an outdoor market. The vendors called out to Laura in various accents, and she smiled uneasily at most of them, never making the mistake of stopping. Most didn’t seem to notice the goggles.

Finally, she saw a counter with some velvet-lined boxes, what she’d been looking for all along. She stepped forward to take a closer look, and an old woman with skin as hard as leather called out to her.

“They’re fifteen dollars, dear, but I can do two for twenty-five.”

That finally made Carmilla speak. “God, I don’t miss that.”

Laura wanted to agree out loud, but if she did, she would suddenly turn into one of the many assholes who had placed their coffee order to her face whilst on the phone to somebody else. Before she knew it, she’d pointed to the glasses she was wearing and shrugged apologetically, hoping that this would fend off any more attempts at conversation from the old crone.

“See anything you like?” She murmured under her breath.

The rings in the glass case were big and chunky, with stones cut in squares and ovals, and looked nothing like the ones Carmilla had been wearing just that morning.

“Nah, creampuff. You can move on.”

Laura was still polite enough to thank the woman before she walked off, and found herself trapped on three sides by colourful tie-dye print. Looking around for the next jeweller, unsure if Carmilla could even hear her over that dreadful blend of reggae and pan pipes, she asked, “Why did we start from here?”

“You picked that entrance, cupcake. Not me,” came the reply.

“I don’t mean that _literally_. Why do you need accessories? Seems a weird thing to be starting from. Who’s there to see them?” She realised far too late how rude that sounded.

“Wow, okay.” Carmilla was clearly offended. “Have you thought at all that I haven’t treated myself, or done anything _nice_ , since like 2006? I know it’s stupid not to start with necessities, but when you look at the big picture, nothing’s really a necessity in my situation, is it.“

Laura had no notion of what Carmilla could need. Certainly not anything that money could buy, or she’d already have it. Perhaps she needed a bit of sunlight, or exercise. If Laura had any more information why Carmilla was homebound, then maybe she would know if she needed stronger muscles, or a better immune system. Perhaps she was a wanted criminal who had to hide away from the law.

Laura muttered an apology as she approached the next jewellery stand she encountered, but she swerved away as soon as she realised that the merchandise on display was very much in the same style as what Carmilla had already turned down.

If only she had more information.

She tried a different approach. “Hey, you know you can tell me why that is, right? If you want to.”

Carmilla huffed. “I _really_ don’t. Oh! I might want some incense for my room. Can you have a look there? On the left?”

Laura had to wonder if Carmilla really did like incense, or if this was just the most pathetic attempt to change the subject she’d ever witnessed. She walked over to where the flat, colourful packets lay in messy piles on top of a table. She was surprised when she wasn’t spoken to, but perhaps the vendor had seen that she was in conversation over her headset.

“What kind of scents do you like?” She asked.

“Sandalwood, perhaps? Cedar, if they have it.”

Laura scanned the sea of bright colours and oriental calligraphy before her, but something at the back of the table caught her attention, and for the second time in as many outings, she found herself wishing that her goggles came with an olfactory option. She picked up a plain-looking candle, a picture of old, leather-bound books stickered to the glass jar it came in, and gave it a sniff.

“Oh my god, Carmilla. If you’re anything like me, you need to have this.”

She held the candle in front of her goggles for a few minutes, so that Carmilla could see what she was talking about. “It smells of books.”

“We _do_ have a library in the house, cupcake, but it’s a cute thought. I say go for it. This studio could do with some personality.”

Mildly embarrassed, Laura grabbed a yellow packet of sandalwood incense and handed it to the seller, together with the candle. After all, the studio room was  _her_ workspace, too. It was only fair that they’d make it more hospitable for both of them. It was disappointing, but hardly surprising, that no endorphin rush came when she paid. She most definitely felt guilty about spending money on frivolities, even when they weren’t her own.

When she stepped out of the small stall, Laura realised that the drizzle had turned into steady rain, and while she could stash her purchases in her backpack, Carmilla’s view must be seriously impaired by the fat drops dotting the goggles.

“Laura, I think you need to find a coffee shop and come back later.”

“But we haven’t found you any rings!”

“Still, I’m not having you get drenched without as much of an umbrella for something that we’ve already established I don’t need.”

Laura was secretly grateful - the rain had already found its way under her ponytail and into the collar of her shirt, making the wet fabric stick to her skin and giving her goosebumps. She knew that the Handbook said her glasses could withstand rain, but the rest of her body she wasn’t sure about, and the idea of a hot drink was very appealing right now.

“Thank you.” Then, in what she supposed was overexaggerated solidarity, she added, “stupid April showers.”

=

Balancing a brownie and a very large cup of hot chocolate on a tray, Laura managed to grab the last free stool by the window, looking out onto the road she’d just crossed. The tourists were now wearing ponchos in fluorescent shades and kept roaming the market, undeterred by the weather. Red buses were driving past slower than before, and getting stuck in lines of two or three at a time. Laura lifted the cup with both her hands and took a careful sip. Whenever someone entered, the sounds of traffic filtered in and drowned out the light jazz the shop insisted on playing. Laura stared lazily out the window at the crowds coming out of the station in small groups.

“It’ll let up soon,” Laura said, quietly. “I don’t want you to miss out.”

She was not expecting a hiss in response.

“You need to move. Right now.” It was an order.

“What happened?”

“Go to another table.”

“Have you seen the size of this cup? It’s as big as my head.” Laura complained, but she knew it was useless, and she had already slid off the stool and tried to grasp the tray as firmly as she could.

“I had no bearing on your order, creampuff.” Carmilla replied, and even though it should have sounded like a friendly joke, it didn’t to Laura.

“What is going on?”

“Just. Face. Another. Damn. Way.” Carmilla growled between gritted teeth.

Laura fought the urge to look back at whatever danger Carmilla had identified, and she saw a sofa she could ask to sit on, if she shared it with an old man and his cane. She gingerly placed the tray on the coffee table and sank into the leather, grateful to have made it in one piece with no spillages. She leaned forward to grab her drink and spoke discreetly into her shoulder, “Is this better? Is it safe?”

She listened out for a reply, but all she could hear were jagged breaths and whimpers. Frozen in place with her fingers just an inch away from the cup, she called out again, “Carmilla?”

“Who are you talking to, my darling?” The old man drawled out from beside her. She turned to her right, jaw half-dropped, torn between not wanting to be rude to the elderly and wanting to make sure that Carmilla was still alive on the other end of the line.

“Oh, it’s just my… friend,” she gave the simplest explanation she could come up with. She tapped the side of her glasses. “This is like a phone, you see. Carmilla?”

She called again, hoping that the man would get the idea that she was busy, mid-conversation in fact, and she couldn’t really be talking to two people at once.

“Carm, are you okay?” It was probably too soon for nicknames, but LaFontaine had called her Carm, once or twice, and ultimately, shortening her name wasn’t as inappropriate as calling somebody _cupcake_.

She answered in the smallest of voices. “I’m here.”

 _Here_ didn’t necessarily mean okay.

“What did you see?”

Carmilla cut her off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Laura reached for a piece of her brownie. She wanted to look out the door, check if the rain had stopped, but not knowing what she was supposed to avoid looking at, she didn’t trust herself to turn her head.

“Is it safe to go back to the market? Or do you want me to come back?” She asked.

“It _is_ safe to go back to the market. Just… don’t look up when you cross the road. And finish your food, Laura, there really is no rush.”

Hot and cold. Hot and cold. One moment Carmilla was considerate, almost friendly, and the next she was closed off and mysterious. Laura had no idea what was going on or how these mood swings were just going to be part of her everyday life for the next year.

=

They found some rings, eventually. Thin, graceful, and a lot more along Carmilla’s taste. Carmilla had been animated, making comments like “Oh, that’s pretty nice” and “I don’t really like rose quartz” when appropriate, as if the incident in the coffee shop had just been a figment of Laura’s imagination. Still, when it was time to walk back to the station, Laura kept her eyes fixated on her own steps without even being asked.

=

**_Day 2_ **

_I know this seems weird to say two shifts in, but I’m having to think long and hard about money and how it shapes us. Today I was sent to buy some trinkets - jewellery. I ended up walking away with some incense and a hot water bottle. Save for the rings, these are all things my Ghostee could have asked someone to buy for her. There wasn’t any need for me to try them on. To think that someone who can’t leave their house would buy jewellery is jarring; I don’t understand who she plans to show it off to. I guess I don’t really wear any - my ears aren’t even pierced - save for a necklace that my mom gave me. But it has put a lot of thoughts in my mind about the value we all give to material possessions. Meanwhile, most months I am concerned that my money won’t be enough for food. Like many students, I live on instant noodles, and I luckily have a roommate who’s both better off financially and a wiz at baking. I’ve caught myself thinking that, if I was forced to stay in all day and unable to be out and about, Ghosting wouldn’t be an option for me. I could never be a Ghostee. Paying a Ghost a wage is not even the biggest cost - the equipment is the biggest cost, plus it’s advised to take out insurance on it. So if something bad had happened to *me*, I would have to forget all about the outside, and just use television and the internet to have any idea what’s going on. It’s nice that some people have better resources than that, but part of me feels resentment. Although, I have to say, as much as my Ghostee tries to play it cool, sometimes I can tell that she’s excited about something. She doesn’t have to say anything, but I can pick something up over the headset, there’s like an energy, a crackle. Maybe some of my suggestions were ill-advised, but I suppose it’s nice for her to see things in real time. There’s definitely a difference between “buy a ring that looks more or less like this” and “buy that exact one, it’s perfect for me”. The Ghostee gets what they want on the first try, and the satisfaction is immediate, not delayed._

_It’s harder to fathom bad moods over the headset. Today, something happened that scared her. I still have no idea what. The Handbook tells you to listen for changes in breathing pattern, but listening to someone breathing erratically and not being able to do anything about it is actually a terrifying situation that makes you feel really powerless. I found myself begging for contact, communication, anything just to know that she was okay. It gives you a lot to think about how much we rely on words. The world would be a darker place without human contact._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla sends Laura shopping for clothes, not without some embarrassing moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had to take a bit of license with this one. I have absolutely no idea if a concierge would be able to control the doors of the various apartments in their building, so it could be entirely my imagination that they can do that. Also, if you wanted some visual reference, this building that I used to see from the bus is entirely like where I imagine Carmilla to be living - river view included. I hope the link works! >>>>> [Carmilla's House](http://www.google.co.uk/maps/@51.4892399,-0.2293138,3a,75y,305.01h,89.49t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sNpdMBvomTPI46Vjhq8FSsw!2e0!7i13312!8i6656) <<<<<

Shift number three was gearing up to be more of the same. Laura was given a key fob for the main entrance and the elevator, so she wouldn’t need to bother the concierge too much. They could just look at her and buzz her in, eliminating the whole 'Will is too rude to open the door' argument. And she was given a credit card, although Carmilla hasted to add that it was a pre-paid one. Apparently, Miss Karnstein was in need of new clothes.

Carmilla’s general appearance tended to be very well kept. If Laura had to spend her days indoors, she probably would never come out of her pyjamas. Carmilla, instead, had worn a different outfit every time they’d met so far - usually some combination of black jeans and a dressy top. She seemed to like leather and lace, and she wore studded biker boots that somehow appeared to have scuff marks even though she never left the house. Her makeup was always spotless; at any point, she looked ready to go out. The irony.

Laura knew that part of the reason she’d been picked for the job in the first place was that her height and dress size matched Carmilla’s and that this’d come in handy whenever Carmilla wanted new clothes. Online shopping hadn’t quite extended to that or, if it had, Laura didn’t know anyone who trusted buying clothes online. She supposed she was a real life mannequin, who could try things on so Carmilla could see the end result - without the photoshop tricks they would find in catalogues, or the deception of safety pins making everything look perfect in shop windows. And she didn’t even have to worry about Carmilla watching her half naked: a Ghost was allowed to turn off the video link temporarily while undressing. In fact, it was recommended, to avoid Ghostees getting unnecessarily pervy. All things considered, the whole process could have been a lot more embarrassing. Laura certainly didn’t want to flash her employer on what was only her fifth meeting with her overall.

“What exactly am I looking for?”

“I’ll see when inspiration strikes. I’m still wearing stuff from years ago and I have absolutely no idea what’s in style at the moment.”

She looked Laura up and down, but if she was trying to understand current fashion just from Laura’s choices, Carmilla wasn’t going to get very far. Laura only ever wore blue jeans, cheap blouses, and ballet pumps. If an alien civilization ever used Laura Hollis to find out about Earthly customs, they’d think fashion was immutable.

Laura put her hands up apologetically. “Don’t use me as a measure. Trust me on this.”

She grabbed the goggles and looked at the right arm before putting them on, observing the two tiny buttons near the hinge. “So the yellow cuts off the video link and the blue cuts off the audio, right?”

Carmilla shrugged. “If that’s what it says in your manual.”

“You must get your own version, surely?” Laura asked. A Ghostee would have to follow just as many rules as a Ghost, if not more. She slid on the goggles and put the card in her purse.

Carmilla rolled her eyes and muttered, “You’d be mad to think I would spend time reading _that_ when novels and poetry exist.”

There was really no reason for her to be so snippy. Well, perhaps being locked up in her own house for two years was one.

“Alright.” Laura sighed, faking enthusiasm. "Let’s go shopping.”

=

It took a quick look at a bunch of shop windows to work out that purple was the colour for Spring 2008, knee-high gladiator sandals were considered desirable footwear, and leather-look leggings were finding their way into every girl’s wardrobe.

“I’d be lying if I said they didn’t look interesting,” Carmilla said over the headset. “I’ve always wanted leather pants.”

Laura gulped. “Do you want me to try some on?”

They looked like they would take years to pull up all the way, unless her legs were slathered in oil or something else slippery.

“I might spare you,” Carmilla said. “Just find me a size 8 and I’ll see how they look in the privacy of my own home. We can always return them if they don’t fit.”

Laura resented the use of ‘we’ when really, she was doing all the grunt work. Not that there weren’t worse jobs than going into a few stores, but she and Carmilla were too wildly different for this to be any sort of a positive experience.

“Anywhere in particular you want me to get them from?” She asked.

Carmilla hesitated. “They all looked the same to me.”

The next time she walked past a doorway, Laura went in. Terrible autotuned pop was blaring through the store, and she could swear she heard Carmilla say “Ew”, but it was too loud to be sure. To her left, racks and racks of floral tops and skirts that she knew would be of no interest to Carmilla. To her right, an expanse of denim. Laura trudged forward, towards the far end of the store, but before she could get to the leggings, Carmilla stopped her.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, I actually really like that.” She said urgently. “On the left, with the see-through bit at the top.”

‘That’ was a little black dress with an A-line skirt, a chiffon bodice, and the teensiest strip of thicker material around the torso to protect the wearer’s decency.

“That’s very you,” Laura said without thinking. She wasn’t sure she was allowed opinions about Carmilla’s sense of style.

If Carmilla had found that offensive, she didn’t let on. “Would you try that on?”

Laura went to find one in their size and headed to the fitting rooms, picking up the leggings on the way. She found an empty cubicle, put down her stuff and pulled the curtain shut. When she caught her reflection in the mirror she realized that for the first time, Carmilla could see _her_ , not just her point of view.

She closed the video link and slipped out of her clothes. She took a quick glance at her Harry Potter underwear and polka dot bra and thanked God Carmilla couldn’t see any of it. If her vibe was any indication, Carmilla was probably the kind of person who always wore matching underwear.

The dress had a zipper on the back, and Laura struggled with it for a bit. It was cute, no doubt - a bit too somber for Laura, she preferred muted, earthy tones most of the time. But Carmilla would look great in it.

She tapped the button on her glasses and asked, “So?”, making sure that she also turned around and showed Carmilla an over-the-shoulder rear view.

There was a very long silence. For a minute, Laura thought she’d accidentally closed their audio link, but then she heard Carmilla clear her throat.

“I like it.”

Laura felt like she’d just accomplished something monumental.

“Great!” She smiled, and remembered to look up at the mirror so Carmilla could see her being encouraging. “I won’t be a moment.”

That‘d been less stressful than Laura had initially thought; It actually felt pretty nice to be able to help out with small things. She changed back into her own clothes and headed for the checkouts, stopping only when Carmilla made her grab some hold-ups that would go well with the dress.

The next stop were the vintage stores, hidden in the street just behind the more popular, mass-market chains. There were two next to each other, and Laura (and Carmilla) spent a lot longer there, looking at unique pieces, patterns and fabrics that didn’t belong in the everyday world. Where the high street stores had been compartmentalized, these stores were an explosion of colour, loud and messy and random. Carmilla made Laura pause and pick up anything that was leopard print; Laura assumed that she’d feel just as passionate about tiger and zebra stripes, but she learnt the hard way that it wasn’t the case. Vests, on the other hand, seemed to spike Carmilla’s interest more than most other things, and Laura had to run back and forth to a mirror to try various types over her own top: leather, denim, even a fringed number that looked like a costume party leftover. There was a shellsuit jacket from the early 90s that Laura suspected Carmilla made her try on just as a prank; and then there was the panama hat.

Before the could stop herself, Laura asked, “What do you even need a hat for?”

She regretted it immediately. _Less talking, more mindless following_ , she reminded herself.

“I suppose you’re right,” Carmilla said, tentatively, “I just thought I’d look cute in it. And you would as well if you’d tried it on.”

Laura felt her cheeks pink; was Carmilla trying to convince her through flattery? She preferred to think it was guilt that made her put on the hat and go to the mirror with it on. It was so low on her eyes that she couldn’t even see her reflection.

“Can you even see anything right now or do you just see black?” She laughed.

Reluctantly, Carmilla admitted, “Yeah, okay, I get it. No to the hat. But I do want the denim vest.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” It was still slung over Laura’s left arm. She went to put the hat back and headed to the cash register. “This is the last of my money. Your money.”

“ _Our_ money?” Carmilla suggested.

There it was again. Laura didn’t respond, or acknowledge it in any way. She paid and headed out of the shop, and set about trying to find the quickest way back to the bus stop. One of the recommendations on her contract was that Laura wouldn’t take the subway unless absolutely necessary. It would cut the connection right off and leave Carmilla staring at a blank screen for the duration. If Laura travelled overground, Carmilla could still find some enjoyment out of it; especially if the bus drove past the river, or a landmark.

It was especially nice to be riding in the upper deck at sunset. Laura didn’t need to be asked twice to stare at all the different shades of orange and pink that she could spot in the sky. She had a Skype call with her dad planned for that evening, and she was going to tell him that she was loving her new job, and that she was as serene and optimistic as she could ever be. Of course, that was an exaggeration, but everybody sugar-coated things for their parents, didn’t they? In reality, she had a looming deadline for the next day, but Laura was no stranger to doing all the work at the last possible minute. So far, the system hadn’t failed her. She’d never got less than 70% on anything and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.

She heard Carmilla sigh on the other end of the line, interrupting her thoughts and her essay planning.

“You okay?” It was natural to ask.

“Yeah, sundance, I’m good. I was just wondering if I could talk to you about something when you get back.”

 _Is that something the obnoxious nicknames you’ve been giving me?_ Laura thought. Really, though, besides a flash of annoyance, she was worried. She knew she shouldn’t have made that hat comment. She was going to be told off, maybe cautioned. She’d done this job for just a little over a week and her probation didn’t end for another three.

“Of course,” Laura feigned calm. She’d have to reschedule with her dad and pull an all-nighter for the essay. It was going to be hard to focus on Uni work if she was going to be fired three shifts in.

Her manager at the cafe’ used to hate it when somebody asked “Am I in trouble?”. He always protested that asking for a private conversation didn’t necessarily mean a negative one. Laura tried to turn that thought over in her head for as long as she could, but eventually she caved and asked the question. Was she in trouble?

“No… I don’t think so at least. Depends how you look at it.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t reassuring. Laura spent the ten minute walk from the bus stop to Carmilla’s playing her dismissal in her head over and over again. She let herself in with her brand new fob, and made sure she nodded to the concierge so he could buzz her in. The house was eerily quiet, and Laura was starting to doubt that Will actually lived there at all. He never seemed to be around any more after that very first day.

She forced her lips into a smile as she entered the studio with a shopping bag in each hand. Carmilla turned off the screen as soon as Laura walked in and stood up abruptly. Bizarrely, the lights were already on.

Laura put the bags down and heaved a sigh, then she took her goggles off and put them back on the cradle. She looked at Carmilla, standing next to her chair, not knowing what to do with her hands. Carmilla’s fingertips were drumming an erratic pattern on her black jeans, and Laura knew that she was nervous.

They stood like that for a few moments, the round table between them like a barrier.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Laura asked, uneasy.

Carmilla balled up a fist and started tapping her knuckles on her other hand. She couldn’t possibly fire Laura. She couldn’t. Will would have had to be there for that to happen, surely. Will and maybe LaFontaine. Big decisions like that had to be made in a group, probably by majority vote. Right?

“You didn’t actually close the video link when you were in the changing room.” Carmilla blurted out.

Laura swooned with relief, even though she could feel her skin prickle from embarrassment. She wasn’t going to lose her job. She wasn’t in _that_ kind of trouble. She could still have her Skype date with her dad, and concentrate enough to write her essay. But - Carmilla had seen her half naked and wearing Gryffindor panties. She hid her face in her hands, but underneath, she was smiling. She hadn’t been fired. It could have been so much worse.

An embarrassed wail came out of what felt like her stomach. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, creampuff.” Carmilla smirked, and in that moment, she truly looked wicked. Not embarrassed, not awkward. Perfectly at ease and staring straight into Laura’s eyes. Laura gulped audibly.

“I’ll look at the handbook again. I must have got the two buttons mixed up.” She started babbling.

Carmilla raised one hand and stopped her. “It’s okay. I can take it. And I was saying it for you, not for me. _I’m_ not sorry.” Her voice was level, but the corners of her mouth were still turned upwards. And then she winked. Carmilla Karnstein _winked_. “Go home now. I’ll see you next week.”

=

**_Day 3_ ** ****__  
_  
_ _I know many people would feel blessed if their job was just to go shopping. I’m not one of those people, and I feel terribly ungrateful for it. I could be doing so much worse - my old job was soul-destroying. But today I feel like I helped put a smile on my Ghostee’s face, and we had a bit of a laugh - once I stopped wanting to dig a hole and jump in it. We accidentally broke a rule that was in the Handbook, which was entirely my fault. But it’s okay because no one else is ever around to take any notice._

 _I liked shopping a lot more when I was a teenager._ Laura remembered that she was still technically a teenager for a few weeks, and she replaced the word with ‘younger’.

_I guess even though I didn’t have huge amounts of money, I got an allowance, and I did what all teenagers do: I went to the mall with my best friend Betty and I would spend every last penny until the next time I had a bit of money put aside. Repeat ad libitum. Betty always liked shopping more than I do, I would get bored after a while, and sometimes I’d regret spending all my money and I would think that maybe I should have kept some for next time, but we enabled each other constantly, seeking the instant gratification of owning new things._

_Shopping with a Ghostee is slightly different. First of all, I can’t really say_ stop _, or_ I’m tired _, or ask if we can take a break in the food court, where I can order a drink that’s mostly sugar and will put some energy back in me. Being bored is not allowed. Second of all, my Ghostee is absolutely like Betty and me, in the sense that she will probably not have any money left over by the end of the trip, but we don’t have to wait until we have enough savings for our next trip - shopping is pretty much going to be the bulk of my work for the foreseeable future._

_The third thing is, I have to try things on for her. We have completely different styles, so for me it’s just like trying on costumes. If we didn’t have an audio link I’d probably be trying to make impressions of her voice and how she speaks to me. I don’t want to sound like I’m making fun of her because she has a pretty cool style that suits her - she’s all about looking dark and dangerous, without the tall part._

_I’d never been thrifting before today and it’s infinitely more enjoyable than going to big stores - although it’s twice as exhausting. If this was a film there would definitely have been a montage of the things I tried on - which included some interesting ensembles from a time when I would have been just one or two years old._

_The one thing that bothers me a little is that she keeps saying that it is_ our _money I’m spending. I wrote a little about my background last time, and I’m pretty sure even if I had the amount of money that she has, I still probably wouldn’t spend it on clothes, considering that all of my adult life I’ve tried really hard to be frugal and it’s kind of a learned behaviour now. I’m not offended, just… wistful, I guess. Anyway, I suppose from her point of view it must be really exciting to be going to shops again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meant to be a little longer, but I've had to split it into two as I'm too worried that I'll catch up with my writing otherwise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Betty Spielsdorf, best friend of several years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short, Carmilla-less chapter this week. I promise that the next one is set to be a lot longer and much more Carmilla-ful.

Laura and Betty had met at the age of eight, and become instant friends through the power of Not Wanting To Be Somewhere. It was the first krav maga lesson for both of them, and although they had different reasons, they were both frowning and trying their hardest to look bored and to make it extremely clear that being there hadn’t been their choice. Betty went because, as the only girl in her family, everyone agreed that she should follow in the footsteps of her three older brothers. Laura, on the other hand, was an only child with overprotective parents, and had been sent to Sensei in the hopes she’d grow some self-esteem to stand up to her bullies. Laura didn’t care to argue with the bullies or fight back, and neither did Betty with her brothers. They caught each other’s eye time and time again during the lesson as the only two kids wearing their own clothes instead of the standard black uniform, and were immediately scolded when they tried to converse in whispers. When they finally stepped out of the room, they gravitated towards each other, knowing that they were allies now, and they finally spoke.

If at first having a friend made the weekly training worthwhile, it became apparent that they both begrudgingly enjoyed krav maga, all things considered. They kept at it for years, and even after Betty eventually quit, despite their differences, they stayed friends. They spent hours on the phone, and Betty would go watch Laura compete in tournaments. Betty was the first person that Laura had come out to, when she’d realized that the pretty black belt that helped Sensei a couple of times a month was not _just_ someone she aspired to be like. Laura had learnt the pain that came with falling for a straight girl at the same time as Betty had learnt the pain of crushing on the one boy that everyone deemed “too kind to be straight”. Betty had moved on quite quickly and resolving by getting under someone else, while it took Laura the best part of a year to stop pining over Terri and moving on to someone her own age. When that hadn't worked out either, Betty had taken Laura to the movies and said nothing as she cried into a bucket of popcorn. Betty had been the one to offer Laura a sofa to sleep on when her mom died and she thought being in their house would be too painful.

It was through Betty that Laura had learned that friendship as an adult was not the same as friendship as a kid. That it redefined itself, that not writing to Betty, sometimes for a whole month, didn’t mean that Laura didn’t care. That it was okay if telling Betty news about her life slipped her mind at first. And that although it didn’t work that way for everybody, it had worked for them.

Yet Betty had heard nothing about the Ghosting job, so far, and it was about time Laura gave her an update, so she arranged to Skype with her at the weekend, after her essay was finally handed in. There was a certain preparation that went into their Skype calls - while she could talk to her dad at any time of the day or night, Laura knew that if she was going to call Betty she needed to make sure she had snacks, water, and that her bladder was empty. She needed to lie down but also tilt her laptop screen in a way that didn’t give her a thousand chins, and she did what Betty, an aspiring actress, called “finding her best light”. In short, she went to great lengths to hide from her best friend that she was miserable most of the time.

Skype chimed and a window popped up, with Betty inside it, looking ready for bed. She was wearing her glasses and her hair was tied up in a bun, but an enormous glass of wine was within shot, a new habit she’d recently taken up, to feel more grown-up, Laura guessed.

“General Spielsdorf.” She greeted. “How’s life?”

Betty’s response was a strangled “eh” and a large sip of her wine. “You were the one who said she had news. I’m still on hiatus, but I’m considering my options for September. Dad’s still letting me work at his surgery, so I’m putting some money aside.”

“That’s good. Maybe next year you can join me here.” Laura had suggested several times that if Betty was serious about acting, she should go to a big school in the big city rather than live at home with her family, but Betty had difficulties functioning away from her support system.

As usual, Betty ignored Laura’s suggestions with a vague “We’ll see.”

“Your turn now,” she added, “What’s the news?”

Laura clapped twice and bounced on her bed. “I got a new job!”

“Oooh, exciting. No more waitressing?” Betty looked genuinely pleased for her.

“Nope - I’m a Ghost!”

Betty’s jaw dropped for a split second, but she masked it well. “The redhead’s going to be so _gutted_ that you’re not taking her place.”

Betty and Danny had met once, at Laura and Perry’s housewarming party the year before. Since then, Betty had been a firm supporter of the idea that Danny was into Laura and that Laura should probably do something about it. Laura wasn’t sure she agreed.

“I actually felt like she was really judging me when I told her I applied.”

Betty pursed her lips. “Not surprised.”

“I don’t think she gets how badly I need the money. You get it though, right? It’s not even paid by the hour. I get 100 dollars a day no matter how much I work.”

“I absolutely get it. Although it’s not really fair that I dropped out of drama school, and you’ve gone and found yourself an acting job with no qualifications.”

Laura shook her head. “It’s not an acting job!”

“Being a different person for a day? No, you’re right, it’s not like acting at _all._  Who are you doing it for?”

“She’s called Carmilla. She’s 21, I think. Very rich, obviously.” Laura didn’t really know what else to say about her, and didn’t think that Betty would care for a physical description. She reached for a packet of cookies and started to unwrap it just so she’d have something to do.

“And what kinds of things have you been doing for her?”

“Very everyday things,” she mumbled, still trying to free a cookie from its prison. “So far in my first week and a half I’ve gone to a bookshop, to a market and to H&M.”

“Sounds easy. Maybe you can find _me_ a Ghosting job.”

“It’s not actually, Betty. Honestly, you’re the only person that I’m saying this to, but it’s not easy at all. I’m worried I made a mistake.”

Betty rested her face in her hand. “In what sense?”

“Well, for starters, they won’t tell me why she doesn’t leave the house.” Laura replied, with her mouth full. “I’ve asked, but it’s like this big _secret_ hanging over me.”

“Maybe she’s a criminal.”

Relief swept over Laura, the kind of satisfaction that came with knowing someone understood you completely, overactive imagination included. “THAT’S WHAT I SAID!”

“Well, does she look dodgy? Or, you know… ill, in any way?”

“No, that’s the problem. She’s a posh girl who wears a lot of black and it doesn’t look like there’s a single thing wrong with her. I’ve been telling Perry and my Dad that she’s nice, but I’m actually not sure if I like her at all. I don’t know, sometimes she’s just... really rude and thoughtless, the things she says.”

“Like what?”

“She calls me all these stupid names and likes to act all disaffected, like,” Laura tried to put on a deeper voice and jutted out her chin and shoulders in her best impression of a spoilt heiress, “ _that’s just the way the world works, cutie_ and _just do as I say, cupcake_. And then sometimes she seems normal. I don’t do well with people I can’t read, Betty.”

Although her webcam was old and laggy, Laura could still see Betty’s eyebrow shoot up in surprise. “She calls you _cupcake_?”

“M-hmm.” Laura nodded solemnly. She knew there was a very high chance of Betty adopting the nickname just to annoy her from now on.

“What 21-year-old calls another person _cupcake_?”

“This one. Clearly. And I’m expected to be okay with it, because she’s my boss.” Laura pried another cookie out of the packet.

“Okay, but - let me be materialistic for a moment, here - if the money’s good, I think it’s a fair trade.”

“And it is. The money _is_ good. Not that I’ve seen a penny yet, but you know. At the end of this month.” She paused to take a bite. “And I’m trying to think of ways that I can use this for Uni… Hey, I don’t suppose you want to subscribe to my new blog?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura's first all-day job is a trip to the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you note to everyone who is leaving comments! It really motivates me to continue, especially once I get to the 2nd half of the story which is going to be a lot more complex and I already feel like I'm in way over my head... if anyone is willing to help me out with some legal concepts please head over to my tumblr (either same username as here or my personal [florencefckinghatesyou](http://florencefckinghatesyou.tumblr.com/)) and send me a lil message!!
> 
> This was supposed to be a superlong chapter of 5k+ words, but I split it into two to delay catching up with my writing as much as I can, so you get a long-ish one this time and then a shorter one next week. Enjoy! xx

The next time her Ghosting services were requested, Laura was asked to go to the mansion in the morning, on the first day of reading week, for an all-day job.

She’d just got out of the elevator when she saw a girl come out of the penthouse’s front door. She had long blond hair, a pointy nose and thick, tanned thighs. The girl was smiling to herself and almost didn’t notice Laura, chirping out a hello at the very last minute. Carmilla appeared in the doorway just as Laura was responding to the greeting.

Carmilla raised her hand to wave goodbye to the blonde girl, and Laura looked at her over her shoulder.

“Who was that?”

“Just a friend.” The most unreliable words in history, together with ‘On my way’ and ‘It’s not how it looks’. 

Carmilla closed the door behind them and started towards the staircase. Of course she liked girls. As much as she tried not to stereotype people, Laura should’ve figured out from the studded boots, and the leather cuffs... and the thumb ring. So old-fashioned of Carmilla, and so completely useless for someone who didn’t even leave the house.

“You have _friends_?” Laura asked, surprised, before she could stop herself.

“Sometimes I talk to people. Mostly online. And sometimes I meet them in person. Most of them won’t really agree to come to my house.” Laura’s jaw had dropped, and Carmilla noticed. “What? You’ve got to admit that sounds creepy.”

Laura looked up at Carmilla, narrowing her eyes. “Not entirely, if the whole idea is for them to spend the night.”

Carmilla turned around and raised an eyebrow. It was too dark for Laura to tell if she was embarrassed, and her tone stayed level and practical. “You’d be scared, too,” she said, “If someone you only know online asked you to meet somewhere that wasn’t public.”  
  
It was a fair point.

Carmilla waited for Laura to catch up with her and they walked across the landing side by side.

“What _do_ you tell these people about…” Laura gestured towards the walls of the corridor, “You know.” 

“Most of them usually don’t make it past the first meeting. Less explaining that way.”

Laura reasoned, then, that her knowing very little about Carmilla’s life wasn’t a punishment, it was just the way things were. She hadn’t done anything wrong, this was just Carmilla’s personality. But it did make room for lots of speculation and right now, Laura was very taken with the fact that Carmilla potentially had booty calls over at the mansion. She wondered what Carmilla’s bedroom looked like. She thought it would be yet another perpetually darkened room, with black satin sheets, pop-punk posters on the wall and, if the limited amount of shopping she’d done while Ghosting was any indication, sandalwood scented incense.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Carmilla turned on the projector and the room was flooded in white light.

“You should like this assignment.” Carmilla said. “I mean, I don’t know why I think that. I _hope_ that. I’d like you to go to the beach. I hope you’re not scared of water.”

Laura smiled. “No, I’m okay with water.”

The nearest beaches were all an hour away on the train, minimum, which meant that Laura would have to travel. She tried to remember what the Handbook said about travel: she wasn’t allowed music, because she couldn’t drown out Carmilla’s instructions or any requests. Reading was fine, though - what she affectionately called the Ghosting Gods tended to be a bit more lenient when it came to that - if only she’d had any notice she could have caught up on some Uni work and drafted the essay she had due at the end of the month. She supposed she could borrow a book or two from Carmilla’s library.

“Is it not incredible that these things have range even so far away from your house?” Laura asked, picking up the glasses from their cradle.

“Uhm, no, creampuff. Your phone doesn’t suddenly stop working just because you’re in another town.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks for killing the mood.”

Carmilla looked away and started listing items on her fingers. Laura was still not used to hearing her speak in long sentences. “I have towels and flip flops and anything else that you might want, and you can pack whatever you like. I’m not going to ask you to go swimming, just so you know. One, I think it’s still too cold and two, I’m worried it might damage the equipment.”

Laura must have pouted, because Carmilla chuckled.

“Glad to know where we stand on that.” She said with a smirk. “I’ll put some waterproof Ghosting goggles on my Christmas list, I guess.”

Christmas was still over half a year away and there was a lot of self-deprecation in that comment, or so it seemed to Laura.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine, cupcake.” Carmilla pointed to a desk that had been brought into the room and sat in the far corner, where she’d put a handful of beach towels and bikinis. “That’s your gear, there, go ahead and pick. And... it would mean a lot if you could bring me back some shells.”

She smiled then, in a way that Laura hadn’t seen before. Carmilla had been incredibly defensive up until that point, now she just looked sheepish, exposed. It wasn’t even that silly a request, but it had clearly taken a lot for her to get the words out.

“Of course I will!” Laura reassured her, and walked over to the desk. “We can choose together.”

Carmilla’s beachwear was incredibly… well, Carmilla. Her towels were leopard print and her bikinis were a triumph of black, studs, and fake leather.

Things would be easier, Laura thought, if her text message call-outs contained more than just date, time, and duration of her shift. Surely there was a way that the Karnsteins could have tagged ‘BRING OWN BATHING SUIT’ onto the end. But since they hadn’t, she’d have to make do.

She picked up a few things and stuffed them in her backpack, keeping a bottle of sunscreen in her hand. She put the goggles on last and looked back at Carmilla, smiling as she left the room.

=

For the first time, Laura was actually truly happy being a Ghost. She didn’t have to shop for a near-stranger; she was going to do something fun and relaxing: sit in the sun for a while, and look at beautiful scenery. Without the ability to listen to music, she found herself staring out the window nearly the whole time. There was every chance that Carmilla didn’t particularly care about seeing cows and sheep for the first time in two years, but Laura wasn’t going to take that risk. She focused on all the different shades of green and yellow in the fields outside. When was the last time she’d been out, in nature? The only memory that bubbled up was being on a farm with her mom, aged about 12 or so, and it made her heart feel like it was shrinking in her chest. Without realising, she let out a deep sigh; she didn’t know if that had anything to do with Carmilla suddenly trying to make conversation.

“So what book did you bring?”

“Pride and Prejudice.”

“Please tell me you’ve read it before.”

“Of _course_ I’ve read it before.” Laura answered, outraged. “I love Pride and Prejudice. Who doesn’t?”

“Well, I can think of better books, to be honest with you, but some of the film adaptations that have sprung up are pretty good. I can’t stand Bridget Jones, but You’ve Got Mail is my favourite.”

“Is that how you got inspiration to find your… buddies, then?” Laura cringed at her own words, and she was glad that the goggles didn’t pick up her facial expression. and that Carmilla couldn’t catch it in her reflection. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

Laura was pretty sure that she already needed more than her own two hands to count all the times she’d had to apologize to Carmilla for something. Her words over the headset, with no visual, always seemed to come out twice as horrible as she intended. She certainly didn’t mean to be so awkward all the time, but Carmilla still made her impossibly nervous. She ignored the jibe, though, much to Laura’s surprise.

“Look, I love a good hate to love story. But as I said, most of these people don’t really make it back to mine more than once. So the slow-burn romance cannot quite apply to me in this instance.” She drawled out, in that apathetic tone that Laura had come to know.

“Hate to love is the mother of all tropes,” Laura declared. “It is the entire foundation my fandom presence exists on.”

She wondered if she shouldn’t keep that to herself, really - people tended to sneer at her if she as much as mentioned that she was really into Doctor Who and a bunch of other stuff, but she found that Carmilla actually laughed. Well, as much as it could be said that Carmilla laughed. It was more like a dry chuckle than anything else, low and timid as if she wouldn’t allow herself the pleasure.

“I will concede there’s plenty of good hate to love stories. In classic literature and in film and in opera. But I prefer a good fake dating story. I’ve seen many a relationship actually start that way.”

Laura gasped. “Are you talking about… yourself?”

“Well, I have to keep some of my secrets, otherwise I’ll lose my air of mystery, won’t I?”

Sometimes, Laura thought that Carmilla enjoyed being mysterious. She could see how it would be fun to tease her, clueless little Laura, not because there was really anything to hide, but just for kicks. That seemed unnecessarily mean, though, even for Carmilla.

Laura let the topic drop and pulled the book out of her backpack. She could feel her phone in her pocket, but it was completely useless. Supposedly, for those few hours, she was Carmilla, and Carmilla didn’t know Betty or Danny. Carmilla didn’t have fanfiction downloaded to her Blackberry, and she didn’t have a blog set to post-by-email for when inspiration struck. Pride and Prejudice was a much safer option for her to see on her screen. _She_ was even allowed to listen to music if she so wished, as long as she kept it quiet enough that Laura’s voice could still come through clearly on the speakers. Ghostees might have enjoyed having music on whilst travelling in their past, so they were still allowed to mimic that experience.

But Laura heard nothing in the background, and she just assumed that Carmilla was silently reading along with her.

=

The beach was very easy to reach from the station - just a walk in a straight line, for 15 minutes or so, down a hill. Laura arrived just before lunchtime, and stopped to buy a sandwich and some cookies on the way. The town was gloriously empty on a Monday afternoon. When Laura put her towel down on the sand, she couldn’t see another human there for miles. Just a silver reflection on the sea and the dregs of algae and driftwood on the shore. No shells in sight, at least for now.

She crashed down on her towel unceremoniously, and set about taking off her shoes and socks. She sat cross-legged at first, then thought there was nothing wrong with just spreading out her toes in the sand. The last time she’d been to the beach had been with Betty, in winter, a couple of years ago. She loved it when the sky and the water both turned grey and the wind blew so strong it seemed to want to chase all human life away. She and Betty would bundle up in hats and scarves and Betty would drive them to a little lookout that no one ever stopped at. Laura would work on writing essays or fanfiction, and Betty would run lines under her breath. That was shortly before she’d decided to drop out. And shortly before Laura’s mum had been hit by a car, and Laura had missed a month of lectures to go back home. Every minute of it, she’d been grateful that Betty was around, and every minute of it, she’d felt selfish that she was benefiting from her best friend’s career doubts.

She shivered, and hoped it would push the bad thoughts out of her body. “What do you want me to do, Carm?”

“Honestly? I just want to watch the waves for a while.”

Laura wrapped her arms around her knees and sighed. “Another one for the Christmas list? Get a CD of just water crashing on the shore?”

“Anyone can buy a CD, cupcake. Sometimes,” Carmilla paused, and pondered her next words. “Sometimes you need a visual.”

“I can see that.” Laura commented. Sometimes, a sound wasn’t enough, and sometimes, a visual wasn’t enough. Laura knew from all the times she’d looked at a picture of her mother and wished she could at least hear her voice one more time. The two went hand in hand. Without one or the other, everything was just a half-memory.

She wondered how this was different from Carmilla just watching a film, or a documentary, about the sea. It wouldn’t be a real immersive experience if someone else was choosing what to shoot and how to show it. It would be someone else’s cut, and it wouldn’t feel authentic. With their equipment, Carmilla was fully in control of what to look at, and how long for. It was no film - it was as close as possible to real life.

Laura got her book out, and kept it at an angle so that her goggles were still aimed at the water in front of her, but she could look down and read, without the pages crowding Carmilla’s screen.

Every once in a while she could hear the sound of a pencil scraping on paper, like Carmilla was writing something. She had a burning desire to ask, but she forced herself to keep her attention on Elizabeth Bennet and her refusal of Mr. Collins’ marriage proposal.

When the music started, Laura didn’t think much of it at all. It took her a minute to come to her senses and realise there were no other people around, and she wasn’t watching a movie with a soundtrack after all. The sound was coming from her earpiece. Carmilla was _humming_.

It wasn’t anything that Laura recognized, but she felt her jaw drop. The person who made speaking look like a chore was singing a wordless melody, directly in her ear. Laura didn’t know much about music, but she could recognize when something came from a place of grief. She may not know the difference between a major and minor key, but she knew melancholy. She could tell that it sounded like a farewell, or a promise, like two people saying goodbye. It was probably an unconscious reaction and not something that Carmilla meant Laura to hear.

Was she supposed to interrupt? Clear her throat, just make her presence known? She waited until a spell of silence. Until the song was either finished, or Carmilla had trailed off without meaning to.

“You have a very nice singing voice, Carm.”

A sigh.

“Yeah,” was the only response Laura got. There was no false modesty when Carmilla was involved. Everyone else would have blushed and stammered and tried to deny it. But Carmilla just acknowledged her good qualities - if only she could be as self-aware about her mood swings. 

Laura tried to be encouraging. “You can go on, if you like.”

“I’m good,” Carmilla replied, bluntly.

Laura wasn’t going to let that ruin her mood. It was just a blip. She wished she could hear another song, but she knew better than to request one.

“It was really beautiful, just so you know.” Laura said wistfully. She felt restless, suddenly, like she no longer wanted to just sit there in forced silence. “Is it okay if I take a walk?”

“Go right ahead.”

Laura noticed the absence of silly nicknames and the absolute defeat in Carmilla’s voice, and her heart ached for her. She tucked her socks into her shoes and picked them up in one hand, her towel in the other. She gave it an awkward shake to get most of the sand out before slinging it over her shoulder and cleaned her hand onto her thigh.

For April, it was impressively warm and not too windy. She didn’t have to fight with her hair flying and obstructing the cameras, or with accidentally inhaling sand when she talked, both things she’d been worried about on the way there. At the same time, it wasn’t so warm that she’d want to change into her bikini, which probably worked in her favour so she didn’t accidentally flash Carmilla again.

She moved a little closer to the shore but not enough to get her feet wet, and directed her gaze at the ground. She couldn’t see any shells, just shards that looked like they could cut through skin. Every few steps she’d come across bits of green sea-worn glass, or a funnily shaped pebble, but she kept going because Carmilla didn’t seem interested. The silence still didn’t feel comfortable, so she tried to make conversation.

“Can you see much at all? The sun’s too bright.”

The surface of the water had been reflecting the rays like a mirror, and Laura had been squinting every time she’d looked up, but Carmilla had not complained.

“We can go all out and get photo-sensitive as well as waterproof goggles for Christmas.” Carmilla replied in her usual disaffected monotone.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know you didn’t, cupcake. Besides, we don’t exactly do Christmas in my house. But I take _some_ satisfaction in showing my brother that his brilliant Ghosting idea is costing him an inordinate amount of money.”

“You’re not paying for any of it?”

“I’m not. He pays for the equipment, and your salary comes from the government. You’re basically medication.”

Laura scrunched her nose at that. It sounded weird. Then again, if people could get sonograms and x-rays and MRIs for free, then why not a Ghost?

“Found a shell!” Laura announced, and bent over to grab it. It wasn’t that great, just a little bigger than a coin and purplish-grey in colour. At least it was in one piece.

“Thanks, cupcake. I can see fine, by the way, no need to worry.” She must have realized she’d really never answered Laura’s question.

The water swept in close and covered Laura’s feet, making her sink a little into the wet sand.

“Did you like swimming?” She asked Carmilla, out of the blue. She had to focus hard not to use the present tense.

“Not really.” Came the voice. “They used to tell me horror stories about merfolk kidnapping little girls. I was an impressionable child.”

“I love swimming. When I was little, my best friend and I used to compete for who could stay underwater the longest. Sometimes one of us would throw a toy - something bright so we could see it - and the other had to retrieve it. And it got more and more difficult because we moved further and further away from the shore. My dad would have killed me if he knew. Luckily I was always with my best friends’ parents and never with mine. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“That’s fine. Maybe there’s a benefit for you too in this, and you can resolve your daddy issues.”

“I don’t have - Carmilla, I don’t think that means what you think it means!”

“Shocking.” Carmilla’s voice was dripping sarcasm, and Laura found it slightly cruel. Okay, maybe she’d gone off on an unrequested tangent, but did she really need to be so rude?

Laura kept looking in silence, hoping that the next thing she’d hear over the headset would be an apology. Or Carmilla singing again, which was not a sound you’d ever expect to come out of a raging b- _bad person_. But all she got was quiet agreement whenever she found a pretty shell, and then again more than an hour later, when she asked if it was time to walk back to the station.

=

Laura fell asleep on the way back after about two minutes of trying to plan for her essay. She’d ended up walking almost 8 kilometres in the heat and it had got to her. Pride and Prejudice sat abandoned on the table between her and the empty seat opposite. Carmilla probably wouldn’t mind, since they were in the middle of their very own, warped version of fighting.

Laura’s dreams were very vivid. There was somebody under her bed. She wasn’t sure how she knew, she just did. Someone was under her bed, and above her, droplets were tapping against her face, like rainfall. When she opened her eyes, it was like seeing the world through a red filter, and when she ran a hand over her face, her fingertips were stained with blood.

She couldn’t hear Carmilla calling out her name over the headset.

Suddenly, the blood rain disappeared and when Laura looked down at her hand, she couldn’t see it. Everything was pitch black as far as the eye could see, save for a white light shining somewhere in the distance. The floor beneath Laura felt solid, and she thought maybe she was indoors, but when she stuck her arms out and started walking, she didn’t come into contact with any walls. She knew that she had to somehow give herself over to this light, it was calling to her, but somewhere behind her a voice shouted not to go. She didn’t recognize it, like it was a stranger warning her.

Something touched her shoulder, holding her back - no, shaking her. Gently. With a gasp, Laura jolted awake, and struggled to focus on this man’s face. Did she know him? She was pretty sure she didn’t.

“Last stop, miss.” He said, and walked past her without waiting for a response.

She looked around. She was still on the train. Outside the window, the concrete platform awaited her, dreary and real.

“Thank you!” She hollered in the man’s direction, before she started gathering her things. Then she remembered who was on the other end of her headset. “Carm?”

“Cutie?” Carmilla responded.

Laura didn’t really need to feel any more embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“It’s fine. Being in the sun is tiring. I remember _that_ much. Let’s be glad you didn’t get heatstroke,” Carmilla mumbled. “It sounds like you were having some pretty dreadful dreams, though.”

“I was?” she suddenly remembered about the light, taking the shape of a terrifying glow-in-the-dark fish as she got closer and closer. “Shit, I _was_. Wait, did I say something out loud?”

“You quoted Kipling at me. _Black as the pit and terrible as the night._ ”

Laura didn’t know if she was more surprised that she’d declaimed literature in her sleep, or that Carmilla had recognized her source material.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m no stranger to sleep-talking. Wake myself up, sometimes.” That was odd for Carmilla to say. Laura added that to her list of symptoms to investigate.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy Saturday, everyone! this is my last weekend off before the Christmas madness begins (but I should still have 1 weekend day off per week to cover my posting, so worry not). I've been in a bit of a slump with my writing recently and haven't really created anything new in about 2 weeks, but I should have enough material to last me through December and hopefully I will regain my inspiration in the new year! just a reminder to message me over on my tumblr if you would like to do any proofreading or help me with accuracy... I've started researching the topics that I will have to explore in the 2nd half of the story, which are not as fun as just 2 girls slowly falling in love :/
> 
> This is quite a short one, sorry about that.

It wasn’t like Laura hadn’t tried to look Carmilla up online. Of course she had, from day one, but she’d always come up empty handed. Google didn’t seem to have a record for Carmilla Karnstein, and Google knew _everything_. Laura had checked on Facebook, too, looking for Carm, or Milla, or any other shortened name that she could come up with. There was nothing. To all intents and purposes, Carmilla did not exist. She’d searched everything from birth records to school newsletters dated early ‘90s. She’d looked on MySpace, despite its decline. For someone who found booty calls online pretty regularly, Carmilla was a ghost. The irony wasn’t lost on Laura.

She was back on the Ghosting forums, researching the cost of waterproof goggles and how big of a benefit they could bring to her and Carmilla, when the familiar sing-song of an incoming Skype call started playing. Laura clicked accept and Betty’s webcam window popped open, but there was no one there.

“Wait a minute!” She heard Betty shout. Betty’s computer was quite awkwardly placed on her desk, and the chair was really uncomfortable - Laura knew from the days when they used to do homework together - so Betty dragged forward a bean bag from the opposite corner of the room, and sat down with a big grin and a bottle of wine under her arm. Instead of a hello, she started singing the Ghostbusters theme song as she unscrewed her bottle and poured herself a large glass of white.

“Thanks for the intro,” Laura said self-deprecatingly. “I can’t believe we’re talking twice in as many weeks. What’s going on?”

Betty took a large swig, which really set the mood. “I’m single and bored. Working in a surgery is not at all fun and every night I come home thinking I’ve caught seven different things from the patients.”

“Well at least I can’t catch moodiness, so chalk one up for Ghosting.” Laura commented. “Every shift is a literal emotional rollercoaster.”

Betty smirked. “For a journalist, you’d really expect that you could use  _literal_ correctly, Laura.”

“Shut up. You’re just jealous that for my job, today we went to the beach.”

“ _We_?”

Oh, shit. Was Carmilla’s first-person-plural starting to rub off on her? Did humans experience symbiosis? She needed to look that up, but she understood so little about science, she wondered if it was allowed to just text LaFontaine about it instead.

“You know what I mean.”

Betty raised an eyebrow and took another, smaller drink. “How romantic.”

“I could have worked on my essay, but they didn’t tell me in time so I didn’t bring any books. I had to borrow Pride and Prejudice even though I’ve read it a million times.”

“And how come you’re not working on it now?”

“Oh, I was just doing a bit of research.”

“For the essay?”

“No, about Ghosting.” Laura shouldn’t feel like she’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but she absolutely did.

“What about it?”

“It might be useful if we upgraded to waterproof glasses. And a sunglass filter, good god, we need that like, yesterday.”

Betty sighed. “Laur… have you got any discussion topic that doesn’t in some way link back to Ghosting?”

“What do you mean? I was talking about how I spent a lovely afternoon in the sunshine, by the sea, re-reading Pride and Prejudice.“

“...which you took out of Carmilla’s library.”

Laura’s voice turned into a high-pitched squeal. “She has a room full of books in her house and I’m not supposed to be excited about it?”

“Laura, I’ve read your blog. You asked, I subscribed.” Betty set her glass on the floor and leaned forward in her bean bag, staring sternly into Laura’s eyes as much as her webcam would allow. “This whole Ghosting situation seems to have triggered ideas in your head. You already think too much and I don’t know if it’s healthy for you to focus on this any more… your money problems. You should have done Philosophy instead of Journalism, I swear.”

“So, what - I shouldn’t _think_?” Laura scoffed.

“No, of course not. But look at it this way: you do this all the time. You get really, really obsessed with something, and you forget about everything else around you. The last time you did this was when David Tennant got cast as Ten.”

Laura put her hands up in surrender. “That’s… not at all the same thing! One is tv, one is real life! I can still tell the difference! Even though you don’t seem to think so.”

“I’m not saying this for me! I’m saying it for _you_ . It’s best to do lots of things than lose your mind over just one. I know you like mysteries, but all this time spent trying to find out why your Ghostee doesn’t leave the house could be spent trying to get laid, or just, you know, _studying_."

“But,” Laura pointed a finger at the screen, “What if I put the two together? What if I make my blog my Investigative Journalism project?”

“Then that’s great, but you still need some hobbies. Some friends. Human contact with other people. A variety of things to do.”

“I have you, don’t I?”

“Laura. I’m 200 miles away. I love you, but there’s only so much I can do to make sure you stay sane.”

Laura’s shoulders slumped. “Didn't know I was at risk of going insane, Bets.”

“I think your already overactive brain needs to slow down a little. I think the redhead fancies you and you should do something about it. I think there’s a lot of things that deserve your attention more than your weird ass boss.”

Laura started chewing the inside of her cheek. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Betty smiled.

She made a spur-of-the-moment decision. “There’s this party in a couple days’ time. I think I’m going to go.”

“That’s great. Whose party?”

“Some friend of Danny’s. She asked me to go.”

“See? She’s still interested!”

Laura shrugged. “I can go to this party, be sociable, hook up even, and _still_ try and solve the mystery of why Carmilla doesn’t seem to exist online.”

“Laura, I promise you if you manage to get yourself laid for the first time in… what, six months?”

_"Four_ months,” Laura corrected, slightly offended. Not that she was keeping tabs or anything.

“Well, if you do, you’ll forget all about the mysterious Carmilla and just do something, you know, for _you_.”

“You don’t mind if I put this on my blog, do you?”

“As if you weren’t going to do it anyway.”

=

**_Day 4_ **

_I came here with good intentions. I was going to say what a nice day I had, that today’s session almost felt more like a holiday than work. Although I guess most people don’t go on holiday when they have essays to write, or maybe they do but they don’t forget their books._

_I had a nice time, my Ghostee had a nice time,_ _even though we can’t seem to go a whole shift without some embarrassing incident. I_ _t was great. Until… I spoke to my best friend. But she told me that I haven’t been talking about anything else in about two weeks, and that I should “lighten up”._ _I might be paraphrasing, there. It’s difficult to “lighten up” when you feel like you’re going at a different rhythm than anyone else. Most people at this University are preoccupied with drinking, don’t care if they hand in their projects on time, or if their projects are accurate at all. That sounds mean - I know a few people who manage to both be diligent students and also have a social life - a quality that eludes me completely. My roommate, who I’ll call P, is completely devoted to her thesis, while Betty thinks_ _μέσον τε καὶ ἄριστον (I took Ancient Greek last year and how many other chances am I going to get to show this off??_ _Probably none - that means “virtue stands in the middle”, by the way) and I should stop being so obsessive about either studying or Ghosting and find some middle ground. I will admit, I am a person of many extremes. I don’t do things halfway. And_ _maybe I got a little too attached to my new job. It is literally the only thing I have going for me at the moment. Uni’s fine, I’m trudging through, I haven’t missed any deadlines yet, and I think I can turn this blog into official coursework. I haven’t really mentioned what I study on here, but let’s just say that I could very easily make researching my Ghostee’s background a project that I can hand in at the end of this term. Am I looking at it from a scientific point of view? From a humanistic point of view? You won’t get to know that. But I can keep you updated with what I find out, and if we see any long-term improvement in my Ghostee’s well-being and moods. Stay tuned, gentle readers, and join me in my quest to get an A in this subject!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura takes Betty's advice and tries to do normal student things, like going to a party and getting drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another Carmilla-less chapter. The problem with writing in 3rd person limited from Laura’s POV is that I can never show what Carmilla is thinking or doing at any given point, even though obviously I know. I usually write in 3rd person omniscient, sometimes in 1st person even, but I didn’t think it would work for what I’m trying to do here, so I’ve had to push myself even though I’m finding it a little restrictive. 
> 
> also, Danny's voice is really bloody hard for me to get right. 
> 
> ALSO, I may currently be severely distracted from my writing duties by having recently confessed to my Carmilla-lookalike colleague that I have a very very big crush on her, but that's a story for another day.

Laura knew that on some level, Betty was right. She was the first to admit that she had an infallible tendency to obsess over things and that her interest in something could often go from zero to all-consuming in a matter of days. She assumed it just came with being a fangirl, but there was a substantial difference between obsessing over a tv show or an actress, and a real-life activity. All things considered, that was more Danny’s territory, with her softball and her triathlon and god knows what else.

She made a conscious effort not to spend all her time writing blogs and reading Ghosting forums. When Perry wasn’t revising, Laura helped her bake snickerdoodles. She Skyped with her dad and binge watched season 3 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She wrote a rough draft for her Mass Media essay. She got as far as the middle of reading week managing not to look anything up about Ghosting or Carmilla Karnstein on the internet, but she wasn’t strong enough to stop _thinking_ about those things.

She found herself wondering what Carmilla did when Laura wasn’t around, in that massive, dark, creepy house that looked like it could swallow her whole. She read a lot, of that she was sure. She’d seen that Carmilla had… friends, or whatever she called her online booty calls. Carmilla was fine. She didn’t need Laura every waking moment. When she did, Laura got an all-caps callout text, and that was it.

When the reminder about the party came, her thumb hovered over the Delete button on her phone. Force of habit. Although the fact that Danny would systematically get turned down and yet still invite Laura to social events seemed to confirm Betty’s theory that she was interested. Laura tried to remember the last time she’d been to a party, and if her memory served, it had been someone’s pre-Christmas bash, where she’d pulled an all-nighter and left straight for her dad’s the next morning. That was almost four months ago.

_Gathering for drinks and snacks at Elsie’s. I can text you the address if you’re interested?_ Danny’s message said.

_Sure_ , Laura typed back. She was almost surprised to realize that saying yes was quicker and easier than coming up with an excuse.

=

When she arrived, she did not find everything covered in balloons, red Solo cups, and sticky spillages, like the last couple of parties she’d found herself at. This wasn’t a student apartment - this was clearly someone who still lived with their parents who had the whole house to themselves. It looked like it would be kept clean, when it wasn’t full of people. There were plants in the corners and frames on the walls - all things that Laura had come to associate with the coziness of family.

She tried to make her way through the crowd until she found Danny, and located her in the kitchen, mixing drinks with Elsie - yet another person Danny towered over - and already a little tipsy. She reacted overenthusiastically to Laura’s arrival.

“You came!”

Laura shrugged. “Can I have a glass of whatever you’re making, please?” She wanted something to keep her hands occupied. She didn’t recognize anyone besides Danny and her companion.

“Round of mojitos coming right up! We’ve got a little group in the garden, Hollis, you should come along.”

“Totally,” Elsie said, even though she and Laura had never spoken before.

“Who else is here that I know?”

“Sarah Jane, if you remember her at all. She came to Ancient Greek on the first day before changing her elective. My friend Kirsch and a couple of the guys from athletics. Oh, and Mel.” Laura had heard of Mel - she’d been Danny’s rival for the VP role last year, but Danny had come out victorious. The two could hardly stand each other, but their academic careers seemed to be inevitably intertwined.

It was ridiculous, but not entirely unsurprising, that a group of third years would be having a party in the middle of April, with less than two weeks to go to their dissertation deadline. Laura wished she’d brought Perry but, since she tended to genuinely spend her evenings at home working on writing and researching, she hadn’t even thought to invite her.

They went to sit on the deck, where Kirsch and Sarah Jane were waiting for them. The sun had already set for the evening and the temperature was dropping rapidly, but no one seemed to mind. The alcohol was probably helping with that.

Kirsch didn’t waste any time asking Laura, “So you’re a Ghost, little hottie?”

She didn’t even know how he would have found out, unless she was now being introduced as ‘Laura, my friend who’s a Ghost’ which was most definitely an upgrade from the classic ‘Laura, my gay friend’. She’d heard that one a lot, and as much as she found it hurtful she never felt like she could object because, at the end of the day, it was true.

“I am indeed,” she answered. It was pointless to complain about the nickname - besides, Carmilla had been calling her all sorts in the past two weeks and she hadn’t yet found the courage to protest.

“That’s… really cool. What’s that like?”

Laura couldn’t tell if this gigantic man-child with the puppy dog eyes was being serious or patronizing. She found that being vague tended to be the best line of defense in these cases.

“I haven’t really done it for very long, so I don’t know how to describe it.”

It wasn’t true. Laura had plenty of words to describe it. She’d opened a blog to talk about it, for christ’s sake. She took a long sip of her drink and listened to Kirsch dig himself into a hole.

“Man, if I had a Ghost, I’d probably ask him to go to clubs and pick up hotties for me. It would be cool to see that. I’d teach him _game_ if he didn’t know how to pick up girls. We could have a different girl every night.”

“That’s… riveting,” Laura said. She didn’t have the energy to argue and she was shocked that Danny would be friends with someone like this. She thought of Danny as being firmly political, interested in feminism and equality. What did she and this hare-brained giant ever talk about?

Laura tried to catch Danny’s eye, and challenge her to say something in response, but she was already on the case. “You know, Kirsch, Ghosting is meant to help people who are not well. Preying on women is just… not in the job description.”

“Of course, tall hot- I mean Danny,” Kirsch responded. It looked like he’d spoken first, and _then_ started thinking about what Danny had said, but as long as he really did process it, Laura guessed it didn’t matter.

Danny raised an eyebrow at him and nodded, then added, “Finish your drinks, everyone, I’m going to get refills.”

Laura watched her walk away with five empty glasses stacked one inside the other, and took that opportunity to excuse herself and go help mix more drinks. It was the perfect ticket out of that awkward conversation.

“What the hell was that about?” Laura stage-whispered to Danny when she joined her in the kitchen. A couple of other people were in there, but they didn’t even look up.

Danny rinsed the glasses quickly in the sink before reaching for a bottle of white rum.

“Kirsch is kinda my… project. Knows nothing about the world, _can_ learn. He is terrible - right now - but I think there’s a heart in there somewhere. And I think we need to educate our men. Or, you know, our dude-bros.”

“I can’t believe somebody talks like that in real life.” Laura commented.

“No, me neither. I’m constantly putting up with people trying to establish the superiority of _bros_ over _hotties_. I’m trying to put a stop to it and I secretly hope that he helps me pass it on to everyone else on the athletics team.” Danny rolled her eyes.

“Oooh. Sneaky.”

“The whole point of leadership is to find that first person that’s willing to follow you.”

Laura was impressed that Danny could still be so articulate when she was clearly fast on her way to drunkenness, but it definitely would take longer to get a six foot valkyrie intoxicated than someone her own size.

She took a sip of her new drink, and scrunched up her face. “My god, you made these _strong_. Is there even any soda in here?”

“Sorry, Hollis, I forget you’re a lightweight.” Danny smiled. At her and Perry’s infamous housewarming, Laura had blacked out after two drinks and fallen asleep on the couch while the party kept going on around her.

Danny took two glasses in each hand and left Laura with just her own. “Let’s go back out.”

With her free hand, Laura pulled out her Blackberry and texted Betty: _At Danny’s friend’s party. Trying to have a more active social life like you said._

When they sat back down, Laura found that they were still somehow discussing Ghosting. It was Elsie and Sarah Jane’s turn to list things they would make their Ghost do, should they ever need one. Laura couldn’t help but notice that every single one of them implied that they’d be able to afford it. She’d come to this party to push Ghosting out of her mind - not to talk about it more.

She wrote another text: _Everyone’s asking me about my job. I don’t think you thought this through, Betty._

“What does the Ghostee hottie need you for, little nerd?” Kirsch asked.

“My name’s Laura,” she hissed. “And I’ve helped her with some shopping and with some sightseeing, for now.”

She took a long drink just so she wouldn’t have to talk for a few moments.

_I swear to god you’re the only person who still calls me by my actual name these days,_ she typed _._ Maybe if people saw her texting they’d realize that she wasn’t comfortable talking about Ghosting. Or maybe they would just think she had no manners.

It didn’t seem to deter anybody.

“What’s she like?” Elsie asked.

That was the question that Laura dreaded, because she had no idea how to respond. Her dad had asked it, Betty had asked it; it was inevitable, but it was complicated.

Her go-to answer was 'Nice'. After all, Carmilla was polite enough. She said _please_ and _thank you_. She was slight, but she had a presence that filled up their small studio. She’d accidentally revealed that she could sing like an angel. She was a bit of a bookworm. There was plenty about her that was _nice_.

Laura didn’t know if it was because she was getting tipsy, but she thought that Danny looked displeased at her description. She wondered if she was reading too much into it, influenced as she was by Betty’s attempts to push her into Danny’s arms. She downed her drink quickly, all the while staring Danny right in the eyes and willing herself to feel something more than just mild sexual attraction. Laura wanted a serious relationship. She wanted smiles for no reason and butterflies in her stomach. The longer she waited, the harder it felt to find. She’d last dated someone at 17 and only had one night stands after that. Yet Betty thought it was a good idea for her to pursue Danny Lawrence, and she was trying to figure out why.

Something possessed her to also reel off all of Carmilla’s negative traits, to see how Danny would react to those.

“She can also be incredibly grating: she’s moody, sarcastic, and she calls me stupid nicknames. She can get really worked up over nothing and she won’t bother explaining what ticked her off. She’s a little scary sometimes.”

“She sounds delightful,” Danny finally commented, and Laura felt a pang of anger in her stomach. It wasn’t fair that these people were judging Carmilla without knowing anything about her. Not that Laura knew much about Carmilla, but deep down she thought that everyone deserved to be happy and no one should live as a prisoner in their own house, not even her.

“Cut her some slack. She’s not had an easy life.” She heard herself saying, even though she couldn’t be sure of it.

“Oh yeah, why does she not leave the house?” Sarah Jane interjected.

“I… don’t know that,” Laura was forced to answer. She cringed, and braced herself for a barrage of criticism.

Perhaps sensing her embarrassment, Elsie offered to go and make more drinks for everybody. They all handed her their glasses and Laura took advantage of the distraction to send Betty another text.

_You’d fit in here a lot better than I do._ It wasn’t until she sent it that she realized Betty probably wouldn’t be able to follow her alcohol-impaired train of thought.

“Why hasn’t she told you?” Sarah Jane pressed on.

She shrugged. “Carmilla’s a very private person. There’s plenty of things that she could be: she could be agoraphobic, she could have severe allergies… believe me, I’ve done research.”

“This all sounds stressful and complicated. Sometimes I really think you don’t love yourself,” Danny piped up. Laura took no offense because one, she’d never felt particularly skilled in the self-love department, and two, Danny was slightly slurring her words by this point, so everything she said had to be taken with a pinch of salt.

“Who does, really?” She replied. She was surprised when she looked around, scanning everyone’s slightly ruddied faces and vacuous eyes. Everyone was drunk, and she suspected some of them were also high. It was a group of successful people - members of sports teams, employees of the University offices, people who enjoyed socializing and felt energized by it.

_I’ve just realized that some people genuinely really love themselves. Can you believe that?_  She wrote to Betty.

Elsie came back with the next round of mojitos, squeezing the five glasses against her chest to keep them in place. Laura accepted hers and drank more than half of it in one go. Elsie had somehow managed to make it even stronger than Danny’s, and for a moment Laura thought she’d been served just rum with some lime and mint.

She wondered what Carmilla was doing. Even when booze was messing with her head, she could turn her thoughts to Carmilla with impressive clarity. There was a part of Laura who wanted to show up at the mansion, draw all the curtains and let the light in. It probably would have been so beautiful if it wasn’t always barricaded from the inside. Carmilla had a river view, for crying out loud, and did nothing about it. Laura’s view from her window was the parking lot of a supermarket and a basketball court where teenagers mostly went to smoke weed. Laura had never seen any actual basketball being played the whole time she’d lived there.

She excused herself to go to the bathroom and predictably, instantly, realized how woozy all the rum had made her. The buzzing in her head cleared ever so slightly when she came out, enough to remember that she had work the next day, and even though her goodbyes dragged for half an hour and people kept suggesting that she accept one more drink, when she got on the night bus still in one piece and able to walk, Laura was proud of herself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura's a little hungover from the party (but only slightly, because she's still young and a ball of energy).  
> She ends up showing up to work late and Carmilla takes it very, very badly. (cw: panic attack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to give a slight content warning for this chapter (I have a tag up the top too) but there’s going to be a panic attack so please take care if you’re reading. I hope I did it justice, but panic attacks are different for everyone, aren’t they?
> 
> I'm feeling kind of fragile about my writing at the moment. I'm reading some fics from a couple of years ago which I didn't read at the time because I'm still fairly new in this fandom compared to most people, and some of them are making me feel so many things that I am doubting my ability to move people to that level. I feel like I'm just sitting here with my really clunky, absurd story and I cannot quite grasp Carmilla's sarcasm in the way that other people do, or the way that growing up with an abusive mother has damaged her. I feel like whatever I want to say, someone else has said it before and said it better, so it means a lot when some of you are reading and commenting on every chapter and you actually _like_ this weird story of mine! 
> 
> The chapter I’m meant to post next week is not quite finished yet, so I hope I get a little time to polish it, otherwise I may have to skip a week in my posting :/

When she woke up, the time read 09:39 AM. She was meant to be at the Karnsteins’ at 10, and that definitely was not happening. She jumped out of bed with an energy she didn’t know she had, not when she had got spectacularly drunk the night before. Other than being thirsty, though, she was fine. Maybe she had a slight headache. It wasn’t going to get in the way of her work.

She grabbed the jeans she had on the night before from the back of her desk chair, and opened a drawer for the first top she could get her hands on. She didn’t even take notice of what colour it was until much later, when she was half walking, half jogging to the bus stop and trying to get in touch with Carmilla.

She’d never needed to phone the penthouse before. The only reason she had their number was if she ever needed to call in sick, because for all other communication, their Ghosting equipment was there. The number, however, was engaged, and she groaned loudly in frustration. What was worse, she could see the bus coming from the end of the road, and had to sprint for the last 50 metres, all thoughts of calling momentarily forgotten.

She got on, out of breath, and slumped into the closest available seat, gasping for air. She tried LaF this time, but their phone was just ringing out. She decided to leave a message.

“LaF, it’s me, Laura. I’m running late, but no one at the mansion is picking up. Can you tell Carmilla please? If you get a hold of her.”

Once she’d at least told someone, she shut her eyes tight and tried to regain control of her breathing. When she felt like she could pretend to be calm and collected, she tried the Karnsteins again. The receptionist picked up.

She and Natalie had met just twice, and they didn’t really bump into each other much - the reception desk was open almost exclusively in the mornings, Laura mostly Ghosted in the afternoon. She was concerned that if she said who it was, Natalie would ask “Laura who?”

She didn’t, though, and she let Laura rant about oversleeping and could she please tell Carmilla she was sorry and she was on her way and only just ten minutes away by now. Like that didn’t still make her half an hour late regardless.

At some point in the early morning, Betty had replied to her texts from the night before, but it hadn’t registered in Laura’s mind just yet. She’d looked at the messages and just seen a sequence of letters: they hadn’t quite arranged themselves into words that made sense in her mind.

Laura ran into the building, bypassing the concierge; she was already swinging the elevator door open when she shouted “Buzz me in, please!” to whoever was sitting behind the desk.

She mouthed a quick “Hey” to Natalie, still out of breath, and started up the stairs, repeating “I’m sorry” like a mantra growing louder the closer she got to the studio.

Carmilla was standing there, her jaw set, a storm cloud waiting to burst.

“I’m so sorry,” Laura said for the thousandth time, “I pressed stop instead of snooze. I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, she thought Carmilla was going to slap her. Rationally, that was against every rule in the Handbook, but rules were made to be broken, weren’t they?

Carmilla spoke through gritted teeth. “I was worried.”

“I can stay longer to make up for it.”

“That doesn’t change the fact I was here, not knowing where you were!” Laura wasn’t sure that Carmilla had ever raised her voice quite that way. She was usually very calm and aloof, and seeing her lose her composure made Laura’s heart start thumping with terror.

She analyzed what she knew so far: Carmilla’s reaction was completely disproportionate to Laura’s mistake. Carmilla didn’t like not knowing where Laura was - worse yet, she was furious. There was a very fine line between coming across controlling and coming across helpless, and right now, Laura didn’t know which side of the line Carmilla stood on. She wanted to help and calm her down, but no one had ever bothered sharing Carmilla’s diagnosis with her, so she didn’t know what to say, and most importantly, she didn’t know what  _not_ to say.

“I called. Didn’t Natalie pass on a message?” No response. “Should we ring LaFontaine?”

Carmilla was struggling to hold it together. Her eyes were watering, but she was keeping tears from falling out of sheer willpower. Her breath started to wheeze, her fists clenched, but she wasn’t moving, likely because she couldn’t.

Who on earth decided that a Ghostee shouldn’t be constantly supervised by a medical professional? Laura didn’t know how to deal with panic attacks. She’d had a few, herself, shortly after her mom had died. They’d come on for no reason at all, and there was no universal trick to make one go away.

“Carm,” she tried to step closer, but would Carmilla flinch if Laura tried to touch her? They’d never had any physical contact, and she’d always seemed extremely standoffish. “Come here. Whatever it is that I did, we can talk about it. I’m going to get you some water, now, and then you can talk to me about it, okay? I’m sorry.”

She made to turn on her heels, but leaving Carmilla alone was probably not a good idea at all. Besides, Laura had no idea where the nearest bathroom was. No one had ever thought to give her a tour of the penthouse, save for the one room she needed to know about.

“Can you move?” She asked. “Come to the bathroom with me. We can get you some water.”

Carmilla was leaden. It felt like pushing a tree trunk. But she did take some small steps, eventually, with Laura’s hand on her shoulder, and led her to a bathroom all the way across the corridor, past the sitting room that Laura had explored on the day of her trial.

Laura opened the tap and gave Carmilla one final nudge towards the sink. She watched her cup her hands under the running water and bring them up, then bury her face in them. The wheezing that had subsided started again, different this time, more like sobbing. It was as if Carmilla was breathing out every other minute and never, ever breathing in at any point.

“Carmilla.” Laura repeated. She didn’t know if she should pull Carmilla’s hands away from her face, let more air through. She didn’t know anything other than something was really, really wrong, and she was never going to be late another day in her life, because this was terrifying. “Please drink a bit.”

This time, Carmilla reacted. She bent down towards the tap, took a gulp of water, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smudging her lipstick. She stood with her eyes closed for a few moments, listening to her own breath go back to normal. Then she looked directly at Laura for a split second, announced “Fuck this,” and stormed out.

“Carmilla!” Laura called after her, rushing out of the door after a moment of befuddlement. “Wait!”

She almost expected Carmilla to slam the door in her face and push against it with her whole body weight to keep Laura out of the studio; instead, the door was wide open, but Carmilla was in position, on her armchair, head tucked away in the cross of her arms, legs nestled into the seat, a tangle of a person.

Laura stayed in the doorway.

It sounded like background noise at first, but soon she realized that Carmilla was saying something, murmuring to herself in the near-darkness. She crouched down next to the armchair to try and make out the words, but it was fragmented and almost delirious.

“I can’t live like this. I can’t cope with this. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. It just reminded me of stuff, okay? Not knowing where someone is. Not knowing if they’re okay. It’s scary. You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t get it.”

And then back again from the top, a mantra of self-hatred that Laura didn’t quite understand. How this big dramatic outburst came out of a common mistake. Whatever had happened to make Carmilla so unstable, that not being in contact with an employee caused her to break down?

“I like to know that something will happen on a certain day at a certain time. If anything changes from there, I just… can’t cope. I’m not equipped for unpredictability.”

“It won’t happen again,” Laura promised, with gravity. She reached up to try and make contact with Carmilla, see if physical touch reassured her in any way. She found her elbow first and left her hand there, awkwardly curved around Carmilla’s bony arm. “Shall we go about our day now?”

Carmilla looked up, just a little. Laura could see an eyebrow and part of an eye.

“I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want _anyone_ to see me like this. Stupid fucking Ghosting.” She shrugged Laura off of her and slammed her fist on the armrest.

“I didn’t. Want to. Do this.” She punctuated each word with a punch. “They made me do it.”

“You’re still here?” Will appeared at the door. He must have heard the commotion from downstairs. Laura was sure that the sound of steps from the upper floor wasn’t something he was often exposed to. “I don’t pay you to stay in the house.”

“Last I checked, it’s not you that pays me.” She spat out before she could stop herself.

Carmilla’s eyes widened in shock and she went to say something, but Laura put her hand up.

“She’s not feeling well. Which you’d know if you were ever around here. When she feels better, I’ll leave. I’m still doing my job.” Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t a nurse or a counselor or a Samaritan. She was a Ghost, and no part of her role was taking care of Carmilla. She was just a body.

“Fine, then,” was Will’s only comeback. He turned on his heel and marched out, leaving the door wide open. Laura and Carmilla sat quietly until the footsteps were far enough away.

“Not so sweet and innocent after all, are we?” Carmilla had shuffled so that her chin was resting on her hand. She was looking down at Laura through narrowed eyes, unable to hide how intrigued she was.

Laura’s jaw clenched. “I never said I was. People just like to think that about me.”

“What are you studying, again?”

“Journalism.”

“That’s too bad. You’d make a good doctor.”

Laura scoffed. “I’m really not that scientifically minded. By the way - should we call LaF?”

Carmilla’s voice was back to her usual flat disaffection. “What for?”

“You just had a panic attack there.”

“Not for anything to do with Ghosting, though. That’s what LaF deals with.”

“Carm,” Laura took a deep breath. “You should talk to me about stuff. If I know what makes you tick, I’ll be extra careful not to do it.”

“You shouldn’t be wary of your every move, cupcake.”

“Okay, can we -” Laura was going to ask her to stop with the nicknames, they were condescending and confusing and they made her feel kinda dirty.

“Look, I know I’m difficult.” Carmilla interrupted. “And I know you’re struggling, and uncertain. But I really appreciate the way you try. I just wanted to tell you that.”

Laura was speechless, still sitting on the floor, her head resting uncomfortably on the side of the green chair. Carmilla - on and off, hot and cold, moody Carmilla - had just expressed respect for her, for what she was doing. They’d only been working together for a couple of weeks, and had bickered through most of it, but Laura realised in that moment that she felt loyal to Carmilla, that whatever the reason she needed a Ghost, she was going to make it better for her.

“What did you have planned for today?”

Carmilla lowered her arms so they were crossed on the armrest. “A trip to the Planetarium, actually, but I hope you don’t mind if I’m not really feeling it any more.

“We’ll rebook it for next week.” Laura agreed. “Look, I’m serious. You should talk to me.”

Carmilla chose that moment to stand up and go stand in a corner, staring at the wall. There must have been a window there at some point; Laura knew there had to be at least one, but the blackout curtains running the perimeter of the room made it hard to tell. Still, as far as staring into the distance went, it was fairly effective. She felt like the bridge she’d just built between her and Carmilla had been burned and become unusable yet again.

“Curiosity killed the cat. And it’s in my best interest for you to stay alive.”

Laura felt blood rush to her face, unsure if Carmilla meant that literally or not. If she found out what happened, would her life be in danger?

“Alive?” She managed to repeat, confused.

“I’m a danger to others. That’s why I don’t go out. But if we start talking, you know, become _friends_ ,” She made the word sound almost like a mockery, like she didn’t believe it was real, “me staying in the house won’t be enough to protect you, believe me.”

“Carmilla -”

“Let’s not talk about this. Please. Let’s find something that will take my mind off it. Maybe we can go to the cinema, watch something really stupid. A cartoon.”

Laura was still not fully convinced she should go out. “We could do that here.”

“We could, and I wouldn’t mind that. But Will is here and he expects you to go. Sooner rather than later. This is the best compromise. I bet you today’s the day he comes to check on me. He’s never given a shit before, but he wants to make sure I’m not just giving you a free pass for anything.”

Laura had to admit that Carmilla was right, but something inside her bristled. _I wouldn't mind that_ , Carmilla had said. She tried to picture them as friends, sitting on the sofa with popcorn and hot chocolate, watching something silly because one of them had a bad day. Like she’d do with Betty or Perry on a rainy afternoon. They were an oddly matched pair, for sure, but they'd already found a few things to talk about. Books, and movies. They could discuss whether all Slytherins were really evil. Which March sister they were most like. All the adaptations of Pride and Prejudice and The Taming of the Shrew. And, perhaps because it wasn’t allowed, Laura found herself wanting it more than anything else in the world.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! so last weekend I didn't realise that I'd broken up my chapters in the wrong way and that this should have been part of what I posted... I could have edited the previous chapter but I thought people might miss it so here you go, have a mini-filler-chapter before the next proper update (sometime over the weekend)!

_Carmilla had a panic attack today._

After LaF hadn’t picked up her voicemail that morning, Laura tried texting them. Her shift had finished and she’d returned from the cinema, relieved to see that Carmilla appeared to be back to normal. Any traces of her breakdown were long gone, she’d touched up her makeup and made small talk about the film. But Laura still thought Laf should know, not quite trusting that Carmilla would tell them herself. She hoped she wouldn’t be ignored. If she was subtle enough, perhaps she could get some information from LaF as to Carmilla’s background.

They replied almost immediately. _What brought it on?_

_It was my fault. I was late._

_Sorry you had to deal with that. How is she now?_

_Better. But Will didn’t appreciate me staying in with her for a little while. I only went out because I had to. But Laf… She doesn’t have anyone. She needs more support. Why is her brother like this?_

At the same time as LaF writing _I can’t tell you that, kid. It’s not my place,_ Laura sent another text. Straightforward, not mincing her words.

_Why is *she* like this?_

The next thing she knew, her phone was ringing in her hand. LaFontaine didn’t even wait for her to say hello.

“Listen, kid, I understand your good intentions. But Carmilla has a lot of issues. And what you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

Laura’s heart started racing. She could feel it in her throat, her chest, her head. “Am I in actual, physical danger? She seemed to imply that I was.”

“You’re _not,_  as long as you don’t go digging. And that’s exactly what you’re starting to do, and that’s not safe. You can’t ask her about her trauma. Nobody wants to be asked about their trauma. It’s a really insensitive thing to do, trust me.”

“But you know what it is?”

Laf heaved a sigh. “I know what it is.”

“And knowing what it is, you think it’s appropriate for a young girl to be left alone for most of her days, with just a stranger for company a couple of times a week?” Laura’s voice was getting high-pitched and frantic.

“You’re not her maid, Laura, you’re her Ghost.”

Laura scoffed. “Same difference.”

“Look, what do you want me to do?” LaF asked. “There isn’t much I can do.”

“Honestly? I wish you could just tell me. I don’t want to set her off like that ever again. If you really can’t tell me, don’t be surprised if I, as you said, _go digging._ I’d just like some honesty from the people I work with. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”

She was bluffing, but LaF didn’t need to know that. She had obviously already tried to find information about Carmilla on the internet and come away with nothing, but if LaFontaine was really so concerned about Laura doing research, it was good to have some leverage.

“Look, kid, I’ve known Carmilla since we were children. I knew her before her… accident. And I know her now. They are not the same person. Something bad happened, and her head got kind of muddled up into thinking that _she_ herself is dangerous. She’s not. That, I can promise. But you’ve got to appreciate she doesn’t see it that way at the moment.” Quoting Laura, LaF added, “I don’t think _that_ ’s unreasonable.”

“You knew her as a child?” Laura asked.

“Don’t think we were friends or anything, frosh. When her name came up on the list of new clients we were taking on, I _just so happened_ to be assigned to her.” They said, in a tone that meant the exact opposite. “That was the first time I’d seen her in years, though. I can’t believe I’m having to specify, but we weren’t exactly best buds in primary school. Popular girl and science nerd? Not really a winning combination.”

Laura had a hard time thinking of Carmilla as a popular girl. Although probably as a child she did not dress in head-to-toe black, and maybe her tongue wasn’t quite as sharp.

“Keep this quiet, Laura. Whenever she gets all catastrophic, just take it with a grain of salt. You might not be in any danger right now, but she’s saying it because she cares. She would kill me if she knew I’ve told you that. I have to go now.”

LaFontaine hung up before Laura had a chance to reply. If they were trying to convince her that Carmilla _wasn’t_ a dangerous criminal, man were they doing a poor job.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura and Carmilla have another argument, but if you look reeeeeally closely, some important things are revealed between the lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle readers, you get an extra long chapter this time - I was going to break this into two halves but I just decided to post everything in one go instead and then skip posting next week. it's the week of Christmas and I'm only allowed 1 day off and I could do without the extra pressure of keeping posting up.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, it's very angsty and I'm sorry. Things need to get worse before they get better! I'll see you in 2 weeks and happy whatever-you-celebrate :)

Something was different. Laura could hear voices coming from upstairs as she walked up. It took a few moments, but as she walked down the landing she realized that there was only one voice, Carmilla’s, and that she was saying, impatiently, “Look, I have to go. My Ghost is here.”

The door was open. Laura walked into the room just in time to catch Carmilla tucking something in her pocket. A phone. Carmilla Karnstein had a cell phone. Laura couldn’t think of anything more useless. A girl who never left the house owned a gadget designed to stay in touch when you were out of the house.

Carmilla looked guilty, but tense, too. Laura had been told, at times, that she was a little overdramatic, and she’d always dismissed it; but right here, right now, she felt like Carmilla was probably laughing at her with whoever she was talking to on the phone. _I have to go, my Ghost is here, the stupid girl who does my bidding and wants to talk about feelings all the time._

“More online friends?” She asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Carmilla clicked her tongue and dropped herself onto the chair like a deadweight, shaking her head and looking anywhere but at Laura. Most of the time, Laura put the lack of eye contact down to anxiety, but today she knew that it was on purpose. 

“You shouldn’t really concern yourself with who I’m talking to.” Carmilla’s voice was light and disaffected. “You should concern yourself with who _you_ ’re talking to.”

Laura immediately felt light-headed. “LaF spoke to you?” She guessed.

“They did. They came here yesterday to check on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Laura said, and immediately regretted apologising for having a heart.

“I was worried about you!” She protested. “Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not your job to worry about me.” Carmilla buried her forehead into her hand.  
  
“You had a panic attack! And your brother didn’t seem to give a shit about it! And LaFontaine is the closest thing we have to a medical professional!”  
  
Carmilla’s arm snapped back onto the armrest and she looked Laura dead in the eye for once. “You’re really shrill when you’re angry, anyone ever told you that?”  
  
That shut her up. And it made her eyes well up almost instantly. It was lucky that the studio was always in darkness - it creeped Laura out most of the time, but it had its benefits. Being made to feel bad for caring was something that happened to her all too often, and she didn’t want Carmilla to just be the latest in a string of people to do that to her.  
  
“Just tell me the plan for today, Carmilla.” She tried to make her voice sound firm. “I’ll go do whatever it is that you want and then be out of your hair, since you find it so annoying that I’d care about you.”

It was Carmilla’s turn to sigh. “It’s not annoying, sundance. It’s…”  
  
“Dangerous?” Laura asked. “LaF said ‘what you don’t know can’t hurt you’.”

“And they have a point. Look, after last time, you must know that I didn’t want this, don’t you? I didn’t want this, and I’ve got enough going on to also be worrying about you worrying about me.”

Laura chuckled at the turn of phrase, but she berated herself because still, she felt a bitterness clawing at her stomach, and she wasn’t ready to make peace just yet.

“Why don’t you get one of your online buddies to Ghost for you, then? You might end up having a more meaningful bond with someone who’s not a total stranger.”

“No! That is the problem. That is exactly the problem. I don’t want to create a _meaningful bond_.” She made air quotes with her fingers and she shuffled in her chair just enough that she could cross her legs on the seat. “Has that ever occurred to you?”

“We all need human connections, Carm. We’re social beings. We might struggle to make them, or keep them, but we all need interaction.” God, she sounded like Betty. “It’s why I’m here.”

“You’re here because my brother has more money than sense, and because he wants to get me out of the house.”

“He wants to… what?”

“He thinks that if I have a Ghost I’ll realize everything that I’m missing out on, and suddenly be cured and get out of his hair.” Carmilla said in a fake, theatrical voice. “It doesn’t work like that.”

Laura took a step back. It was the first time Carmilla had referred to herself as ill. So she _did_ have an illness. After she spent the last visit trying to convince Laura that she was some kind of danger to society.

“Is he the only family you have? Where’s your mom? Your dad? You’re not that much older than me.”

Carmilla closed her eyes very tight and rested her head on the back of the green chair and for a moment, Laura thought she was going to scream.

“Why is it okay for you to be worried about me if I’m half an hour late _once_ and I can’t be worried about you being alone and suffering from trauma?” She insisted.

It looked like Carmilla was close to crying. It would definitely be a feat to make her cry twice in as many visits, and not one that Laura could ever be proud of. When she finally spoke, she drawled out the words, managing to sound angry rather than upset. Wanting to cause as much hurt as possible, almost as patronising as Will.

“Shut up and do what you’re paid to do, Laura.”

=

There was an envelope on the table, with a ticket for a river cruise with afternoon tea. The pier it left from was only about half an hour away, and the tour wasn’t starting for an hour, so Laura decided to walk instead of taking the bus. But her steps were hurried, angry, and she wasn’t really taking in any of the sights like she normally would. She liked to look at riverside buildings, spot the ones that looked old and dingy and lived in, so different from the under-construction luxury flats and hotels being erected here and there. Today, she wasn’t pay attention to the smell, or the colour of the cloudless sky. She was aware she was getting sweaty, but she was secretly pleased that the sun was shining so mercilessly; it was probably blinding Carmilla in the studio room.

Her seat was reserved inside the cabin, whereas tourists were braving the upper deck even in uncertain weather; it was hot one minute and windy the next, and they were simultaneously risking a sunburn and a sore throat.

Laura was led to a table by the window, decorated with an old-fashioned brass typewriter lamp, and a wooden bench without even a cushion for her to sit on. The boat bobbed up and down while the passengers were boarding, and Laura looked at the window, realising she could actually slide it open if she wanted to. The voice of the guide would still travel to her light and clear through a speaker just above her, so she slid the glass panel slightly to the right, thinking Carmilla would get a better view without the dried up droplets that marred the window. She hated herself for even thinking of improving Carmilla's cruise experience in some way; she hated herself for being kind.

The river looked greenish today. In her year and a half living there, Laura had seen it sparkle in every imaginable shade from silver to brown. She didn’t love it as much as she loved going to the beach, but it was still a staple in her landscape. It was confusing, though, to be booked onto such a tourist activity, especially when Carmilla could see the river from her window. Laura had no idea where Carmilla was born, and why she’d want to go on a cruise if this was actually where she’d lived all her life. In different circumstances, maybe Laura would have asked over her headset. Today, she stayed obstinately silent.

She huffed. She wasn’t really in the mood to work, not when she was so cross with Carmilla. Every time Laura tried to help, Carmilla shut her out, but this time she’d crossed a line by telling her to shut up and leave. Laura didn’t deserve this - the urge to return the goggles and never go back was very strong. Still, getting paid $100 per day to be a punching bag for someone else’s rudeness was still better than getting paid 6.50 an hour for the same pleasure.

The waiter came back to place a teapot on Laura’s table. She looked up and smiled at him unconvincingly before pouring steaming water into her cup, leaning backwards so her glasses wouldn’t fog up. She wished she could just take them off. She wished she could set them on the table at just the right angle, aim them out the window, and give Carmilla the view that she wanted while minding her own business.

She knew she couldn’t. They needed to keep the audio link connected. She needed to be on hand if Carmilla had anything to say or any instructions to give her. But she strongly doubted that it would be the case, what with the ongoing battle of wills. The first person to speak would be the loser.  

Even though they’d never really talked that much, other than broken conversation and digs at each other, Laura could feel a notable absence of Carmilla, of the voice in her ear. She was loath to admit this, but she missed her voice. Missed her laugh, even though it certainly couldn’t be said that Carmilla laughed a lot in the first place. In fact, she laughed like she knew perfectly well she shouldn’t; like she wasn’t allowed to have fun. But Laura knew that Carmilla had as much of a right to happiness as anybody else.

She knew. But she still refused to say anything out loud. It frustrated Laura so much. How dare Carmilla get into her head and then get _out_ of her head, leaving her in such silence? She opened her backpack and took out her phone, a notebook, and a pen. If she was going to make the best out of a bad situation, she could try and keep her head high but her gaze down. She’d had a little practice at the beach already, and this could work. She could try and do two things at the same time.

She could continue her essay. She could make a bullet point list of everything she knew about Carmilla so far. She could text LaFontaine again, and ask why they’d said they were counting on her on the day she signed her contract, only to then get all mysterious and unhelpful when it mattered. She could text Betty and say that she and Carmilla were fighting, even though that was probably not the right word for it. She could write a letter to her mom. She did that, sometimes, when things got really rough and she knew that no one else’s advice would ever measure up to her mother’s.

The engine started, and the boat bounced gracefully away from the pier and into open water. Laura took a picture on her Blackberry and texted her dad, _Ghosting on a river cruise today_ , and in that moment, she didn’t care if Carmilla saw her or not, didn’t care if she caught a glimpse of Laura’s phone in the bottom of her giant screen. She wanted Laura not to care? Laura would _show_ her not caring.

With the notepad on her knee and her goggles pointed firmly outwards, Laura focused her thoughts on her essay and on the art of not giving a damn.

=

She was still silent on her walk back, but she wasn’t as angry or inattentive any more. She took in the buildings now, the rapidly greying sky, the shrieking seagulls. When Laura had moved away from home, she’d thought of all the places she could explore once she was on her own in the big city; but since the very first day, University and life had simply got in the way. For the first two weeks, there had been parties every night; then there had been deadlines and exams and Christmas break. Then the car crash and the funeral. Laura never really did much for herself these days; and she was begrudgingly grateful that Ghosting had given her an opportunity to be a tourist in her own town.

Once she was in the lobby, Laura could see that someone had just finished talking to the concierge and was turning to get into the elevator at the same time as she was. She held the doors for Laura - it was a girl in her early 20s, with a mass of curly hair like Perry, but not quite the same shade of red, and taller.

Laura asked what floor and, when the girl said the penthouse, her heart sank. The online buddy from that morning, no doubt.

She didn’t usually close her video link until she was past the threshold, but this time, the urge was overpowering, and Carmilla would know better than to have a go at her in front of someone else. Discreetly, she pressed both the buttons on her glasses and pulled them off, hoping not to attract too much attention.

“Are you a friend of Carmilla’s?” She asked.

“Oh, yes. And you’re…”

“Her Ghost,” Laura said, through gritted teeth. _The one you were probably laughing at just this morning._ The girl, however, did not show any recognition whatsoever.

Laura tapped the goggles onto the palm of her hand once or twice and took a deep breath.

“In fact, why don’t you return these to her, from me.” She forced out a smile. “This way I don’t have to intrude on any plans you guys might have.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at her, and Laura chose to believe that her insinuation had touched a nerve. She kept her facade friendly and open, daring the girl to be rude in return. When she wasn't, Laura offered her the goggles, neatly folded like a pair of common glasses.

“Just give them to her?” The girl asked.

“She’ll know what to do.” Laura kept faking a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “Only, please don’t try them on. They’ve been calibrated to my face.”

It was a lie and she didn’t know why she’d said it. The goggles had fit on the first try and Laf never had to make any adjustments, but Laura wanted to make her job sound more important than it really was. This girl didn’t need to make a mockery of it, didn’t need to try on her tech like it was a game. Maybe it wasn’t a job that Laura had trained for years for, maybe it wasn’t skill-based, so to speak, but it was _hers_ , and she knew some things, at least, that these online friends didn’t. What she didn’t know she would find out. If Google didn’t yield any results, she wasn’t going to stop there. She was going to take everything she’d learnt in her Investigative Journalism module, and she was going to get to the bottom of this.

The girl accepted the goggles from Laura, tentatively, like they were extremely delicate, and technically, yes, they had probably cost thousands, but Laura was too angry to feel guilty about her snap judgments. She just wanted to get out of there, out of that building and away from Carmilla, at least until her next call-out. She’d had enough for today. Enough of having to work with someone so hot-and-cold that Laura could feel it rubbing off on her. Even her worst customer at the coffee shop, even the most entitled, condescending bastard hadn’t made her as furious as Carmilla’s stubbornness.

So she watched the girl walk out of the elevator, and she stayed in and slammed her hand on the button to return to the ground floor five, six, seven times until the doors closed and she was safely on her way back down. Carmilla wouldn’t come looking for her. She would probably take the goggles, put them back without a second thought, and turn her attention to her booty call. She wouldn’t think much of Laura’s absence, or miss her; she’d forget all about her existence until the next assignment.

=

Once Laura was back home, she texted Betty. _Have I told you yet that I think Carmilla’s gay?_

The reply didn’t take long to come. It just said, _Go on. You have my attention._

_It’s the second time she has a girl over when I’m either starting or finishing my shift._ She fiddled with the symbols on her keyboard to make a shrug emoticon.

_You think that’s why she picked you? Finely tuned gaydar?_

Up until then, Laura had been surrounded by disbelief whenever she said she was gay. People were far too wrapped up in their stereotypical ideas of what they expected a gay girl to look like, and over and over again Laura had been asked if she was _sure._  She hated it every time. If Carmilla really did have finely tuned gaydar and found something to relate to, it would be the first time ever that it had brought Laura an advantage. But with the way Carmilla’d been treating her, it seemed highly unlikely. It probably had everything to do with Laura’s dress size, and nothing to do with her orientation.

_Fuck knows why she picked me, Bets. I really think she hates me._ Laura typed. Then, quoting one of her favourite lines, she added, _I’m gonna go talk to some food about this._

=

**_Day 6_ **

_Up until today I thought that my Ghostee was essentially a loner with no friends and very little family. But it turns out that she has a much more active dating life than me. I don’t know why I almost feel resentful, but I do. I guess I got tricked into thinking that I was this person’s only friend…_

She backspaced.

_...human contact, but she has a pool of what appear to be friends with benefits, and she has a phone!!! It’s pretty clear that these FWBs don’t really know much about her situation, so I’m not jealous that they know more about her than I do. They don’t. We spoke briefly about what she tells them to justify never leaving the house, but she didn’t even want to reveal that, and maybe it doesn’t matter._

_What matters is, I know better. I know more than what she wants to show to these people that she hardly knows, people she meets twice in the best case scenario. I’ve seen her break down and I’ve seen her be fragile and that’s why I know that this kind of human contact can’t be enough forever. I’ve seen her, or heard her, be excited about things - books, mostly, but also things like the beauty of nature. We laughed when I did something stupid._

_I don’t think I can explain the level of rejection that I feel right now. I’m a good person. I like to help others, I didn’t lie when I told them that in my interview. Other people would have found out there and then why they were needed, instead I’m still here, completely in the dark. I’ve done a bit of research on mental illnesses that cause someone to be extremely moody and also to avoid contact with others. But it’s all far too confusing and there is so much overlap between different conditions, it sounds like she either has all of them or none at all, and while I could maybe narrow it down a bit, I don’t think it would make a world of difference to how I feel, and right now, I feel betrayed. I can’t imagine how she would prefer the company of someone who she knows she’s never going to see again versus making an actual, real life friend. I guess it’s just easier that way._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left Laura and Carmilla in a conflictual "not speaking to each other" situation last chapter, even though mostly it was just Laura's feelings of rejection clouding her judgement and making her want to walk out of her job completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternoon, everyone! Hope your holiday breaks were nice and nobody had to deal with shitty conservative families! I was going to post a short update today because I wanted to stagger the material I've got for as long as possible, however it didn't really feel right to split this scene into two parts, so, you get the whole thing today, and potentially I will change my posting frequency to once every 2 weeks instead. (any opinion about this is appreciated!)
> 
> A huge thank you to those people who comment on every chapter or almost, you know who you are. You make me really happy and it keeps me going! 
> 
> WARNING: Misgendering of LaF happens in this chapter. It’s once and in passing, but I think it’s fair to give a heads up.

When Will appeared at the door, Laura couldn’t help but think she was in trouble. She knew this was his house, too, but he hadn’t been around much at all, and he was needed less than ever now that the concierge just had permission to buzz Laura through whenever she was expected. It was a system that worked - Carmilla let downstairs have a schedule far enough in advance that they didn’t ever have to worry about Laura turning up unexpected. There were a couple of lawyers’ offices in the building, too, each with their own appointment book, so it really wasn’t that shocking to the managers that the Karnsteins had added their own.

“Hello, Laura. I trust you’re doing well?” He strived to sound as formal and posh as she’d learned to expect from him. She could see through the act, but she thought it would make everyone’s life easier if she just played along.

“I’m good, thank you.”

“How long have you been Ghosting now?”

_You should know this._ “About three weeks.”

“Three weeks! I thought it was longer. You’re supposed to have a review with both Carmilla and Susan when you hit a month.”

“Susan?”

“I think you know her as LaFontaine?”

“Oh.” Laura recovered quickly. “I’ll make sure we book it in. See ya.”

She was up the stairs and in the Ghosting room in an instant, out of the the pot and into the frying pan, so distracted, in fact, that she greeted Carmilla cheerfully, forgetting that last time she hadn’t even come in the house herself to say goodbye. Carmilla, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have forgotten - she was positively glowering.

“Hello, stranger. How good of you to come and fetch your goggles in person instead of sending someone else.”

“I was just trying not to bother you. I thought you had… you know,” she gestured with her hands, “plans.”

“Well as much as I appreciate you staying out of my sex life, cupcake, you have to remember you’re supposed to pick up and return your glasses on _every_ shift. It says so in your precious Handbook.”

Laura’s heartbeat quickened and she wondered if Carmilla could be that vindictive. Maybe that was why Will had brought up her probation review. She’d let her anger get in the way of following the rules and keeping the peace. She’d been so annoyed that day, though, and it didn’t look like she was going to get an apology, which made all her feelings of rejection rush back and settle in the pit of her stomach.

“It would have been nice if you’d waited for me to be done with my workday before you invited your friend with benefits over,” she spat out.

“She was early, what could I do? It wasn’t personal.”

“For someone who says she loves You’ve Got Mail, I thought you’d know that ‘it wasn’t personal’ is never a good line.”

“You’re not Meg Ryan.” Carmilla walked up to Laura and stared her down from her measly one-inch advantage. “Although you do remind me of some of her characters in many ways. Neurotic, uptight. Prissy little overachiever who sticks her nose in things she shouldn’t.”

It looked like she was enjoying Laura’s look of increasing shock with each further insult immensely. And then her shoulders slumped, and she dropped the act.

“Look, what is the problem here?” she asked. “Are you jealous? I get that I’m quite the catch, what with my never seeing the light of day.”

Carmilla’s bitter self-deprecation hit Laura right in the chest. She’d never thought of it that way. Carmilla had to take whatever scraps she could because, being unable to go outside, she didn’t really stand a chance at what most people considered normal romantic relationships. Not that Laura had any recent experience of that, but the possibility of it was something that she at least had, and Carmilla didn’t. The magnitude of that thought kept her head spinning while Carmilla looked at her curiously, probably wondering why Laura had abandoned what was clearly a battle for the last word.

“I’ve shut you up.” She seemed incredulous, herself. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Laura’s dizziness turned into embarrassment. She didn’t know what to do with her hands and ended up wrapping them around her waist to keep herself from fidgeting. She could admit to herself that part of her uneasiness was jealousy, but she would not verbalize that to Carmilla. She wouldn’t. Not when it would just bring about more teasing and more misunderstandings.

“So, Will bringing up that we have a review coming up soon has nothing to do with you being mad at me?”

“I was never mad at you. I was merely pointing out that you, the most by-the-book person I’ve ever met, had broken a rule.” Before Laura could argue, she added, “Will doesn’t know.”

“I don’t think he likes me, regardless.”  
  
“Will doesn’t like anyone,” Carmilla shrugged.

“He called LaFontaine _Susan_.”

“What did I just tell you? He doesn’t like anyone, or care to respect their feelings.”

“Does that include yours?”

She didn’t directly answer the question. “He never takes an interest in anything I do. I think it bothers him that you do.”

“But that’s just my job.” Laura protested.

“Cut the crap, Laura, I was here too when you kept saying over and over that you care about me.”

Laura thought she could feel Carmilla’s hostility come off in waves. Sometimes, she relented, and then she hit back after lulling Laura into a false sense of security. This was one of those times. She wished Carmilla didn’t make empathy sound like such an undesirable trait, but it looked like she personally had no concept of it.

“Okay, so maybe I don’t think you’re terrible. Why does that bother him?”

Carmilla thought for a really long time before answering that. “Because the last time someone thought I wasn’t terrible is what led us to this mess.”

“You can’t say things like that and then drop it and not expect me to ask.”

“I’ll make you a deal, cupcake. I don’t want to talk about it with Will in the house and I don’t want to talk about it over goggles because the truth of the matter is, LaF could tap in at any time. I know they’re just random checks, but with my luck, they’re going to listen in at the worst possible time.”

“But they know the story -”

“They know the story. I still don’t think they’d be happy with me telling you, though. You go and do this today. We take that trip to the Planetarium and Will will be gone by the time you get back. You stop torturing yourself and you stop trying to diagnose me over the internet, and don’t even lie and say that you didn’t at least give it a go.”

“I don’t understand why you’ve changed your mind. Or maybe you’re just saying that and you’ll find an excuse not to tell me when I get back in. Maybe you’ll have another online date over.” She raised an eyebrow and Carmilla still didn’t make any attempt to look guilty.  

“Looks like you’re just going to have to take a leap of faith, then, won’t you? Go, now, before Willy boy comes to complain that you’re still here.”

=

The Planetarium was at the top of a hill, and for someone who walked places quite regularly, Laura was finding it far too steep to make conversation. She tried to keep her breathing under control, and hoped that Carmilla didn’t have the volume on too high in the studio. She didn’t think her erratic panting would be particularly interesting to listen to.

It was early enough that there weren’t too many tourists about, and even though Laura knew she should probably head for the dome-shaped building, she couldn’t help but look back at the panorama from the top of the hill. The city looked beautiful, bustling, but silent. She could see cars on the roads, construction works, and buildings with dozens of floors where people were working, but none of the sound travelled through to her. She smiled, and hoped Carmilla didn’t mind her hesitation.

She would never get tired of this. The city, the views. Carmilla probably wouldn’t either, which was why she was here in the first place. She reluctantly turned and made her way towards the reception desk, purchased a ticket for the next showing and walked into the dome. Only a family of four had already taken their place on the reclining chairs. Laura found a seat towards the back and looked up. The screen was still off, a dark grey faintly illuminated by the blue neons running the perimeter of the room.

As quietly as she could, she asked Carmilla if she’d been here before.

“When I was 15, I think. On a school trip.” Carmilla replied. “I found looking at the stars very comforting. It can put a lot into perspective, to think about how small we are in comparison. I’ve been fascinated ever since.”

“You have a roof terrace.” Laura pointed out.

“I don’t go out, cupcake.” Before Laura could apologize, she added, “Plus there isn’t a nice lady on my terrace to talk me through what I’m seeing.”

Laura sat in silence and waited for said nice lady to introduce herself and then the film they were going to be watching. Her voice was soothing, and she worried she might fall asleep. Carmilla probably wouldn’t even realize, unless Laura started snoring, so it wasn’t going to ruin her experience, but now Laura was torn between wanting to rest her eyes and seeing what Carmilla found so interesting about stars.

So she stayed up and watched, watched as the screen above her and around her turned black and purple and silver with lights, and she tried to follow the commentary but all she could think of was Carmilla’s words. She didn’t need any more help feeling small, there were reminders of it everywhere. She wasn’t sure why anyone would be happy to feel insignificant in the microcosm they lived in. Laura wanted to do big things. Important things. She wanted to help people in need, give them a voice, a platform.

She wanted to help Carmilla. As much as she could and whatever Carmilla needed, whether it was a friend or a cure or a remedy. Maybe she could help other Ghosts with her blog. Maybe she could write a thesis about overcoming trauma. She wanted her life to have meaning - not to be reminded that it didn’t have any.

She stayed in her seat, unmoving, long after the film had finished. She let everyone else in the dome exit before her, and only when the guide stepped off the podium did she think it was probably time to leave. Carmilla said nothing, she didn’t ask why Laura took so long to get back outside. But when Laura let herself slump onto a bench overlooking the city again, she just had to ask.

“Are you okay?”

It never went down well with Laura when Carmilla asked her if things were fine. She always thought it should be the other way around.

“I think being aware of how small we are was not as beneficial to me as it was to fifteen-year-old you.” Laura managed to drawl out. “I need a moment to regroup and convince myself to make the journey back. Right now I feel like everything I do is useless.”

“It seems like philosophy’s not for you, cupcake.” Carmilla said, quietly. “I’m sorry it messed with your head. Come back home, we can talk. Like I promised.”

The word _home_ didn’t even register with Laura. She took a few moments to muster enough motivation to wearily stand up, and started descending the hill. She kept her steps short and cautious to counter the incline, focusing on the tired faces of the people making the climb up the top that she’d made just over an hour ago.

“Hey, did you like the cruise, the other day?” Carmilla asked, out of the blue. It struck Laura as odd that she’d be the one starting a conversation.

“Are you just trying to distract me from my existential crisis?”

She could hear Carmilla’s smile in her answer. “Maybe.”

“Careful, Carm, I might think you’re human.” She sighed. “The cruise was very nice. It felt weird to not be talking while I was there, though.”

If Laura looked at the river, she could even spot the exact point the cruise had turned around and gone back to its starting point the other day. “Can I tell you something? I don’t know if what we’re doing is normal.”

“What, you being my proxy? Me seeing the world through your eyes? News flash, creampuff, that is definitely _not_ normal.”

“I just mean, the amount that we’re talking. Is it too much, too little? We have this review sometime next week, and I don’t know anyone else who is doing this and I don’t know if I’m doing well.” What she really meant was, _I don’t know if any other Ghosts yo-yo in a love/hate relationship with their Ghostees. I don’t know if there is an easier way of doing this._ “Do you think I’m doing well?”

“Depends on whose scale. On my scale you’re doing just fine. Jealousy aside.” Carmilla was probably winking right now, and although her heart was heavy, Laura chuckled.

“You’re lucky I’m going underground in a minute, or I would argue back.” It wasn’t until the words came out of her mouth that Laura realized she was flirting back. Goddamnit.

“I fully expect you to pick up right where we left off when you get in.”

Laura would lose connection on the subway, but this was the only way to and from the Planetarium, unless she wanted to spend three hours taking buses. She clicked off the audio and video links, and looked at her Blackberry. She opened a new email, and started composing a blog post for later, but she couldn’t focus on words and thoughts. Her heart was beating faster than usual, wondering if she would really get some clarity once she got off or if she’d just been tricked by an empty promise.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla finally talks! Well, she leaves out a lot of details, but you know, we're not supposed to know that just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, gentle readers, one more chapter before I change my posting frequency to every other week. I hope no one loses interest when the chapters start coming a bit more slowly, I've been really stuck and haven't really written any brand new material in almost a month now. in other news, me and my Carmilla lookalike colleague have... kind of... started dating? maybe? idk the whole thing is really really confusing and we are both very awkward people but we did kiss last night so that's certainly progress?

She clicked the buttons back on when she got off the train, although she didn’t quite get her signal back until she was at the top of the escalator.

Carmilla’s voice was still crackly when she said “Welcome back.”

The walk from the subway to the mansion was still about ten minutes long. When she got in, Will was out, just as Carmilla had promised. The concierge had buzzed her in and she’d walked up the stairs with bated breath, Laura thought she could hear the air around her crackle with anticipation.

Once she reached the top of the stairs and made to turn to the studio room, she heard Carmilla call out to her from the living room.

“In here!” Laura did a double take. She removed her glasses and folded them up in her hand, staring at them for a second in disbelief. She turned the corner only to realise that Carmilla had partially opened the curtains and was sitting at the dining table in a way that looked particularly uncomfortable. She had one leg folded up underneath her and was leaning forward with her chin resting on her right hand. She had to crane her neck to make eye contact with Laura coming into the room. Eye contact. Laura felt like she’d just walked into a parallel universe.

“Daylight? I was starting to think you were a vampire.”

It took her a moment to notice the mug of steaming hot chocolate on a coaster that was in front of the empty chair next to Carmilla.

“For me?” She asked, but it was a rhetorical question. Carmilla already had a half-finished drink in front of her. “I’m -”

“Lactose intolerant. I know.” Carmilla interrupted her. “It’s soy milk.”

“Oh.” Laura touched the mug, but it was still too hot. “Where’d Will go?”

“Work. He started early today.”

“What does he even do?”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Manages a club, believe it or not.”

It was pretty impressive. “How old is he?”

“Eh. It doesn’t matter. Our mother gave it to him to run. It certainly didn’t come from hard work.”

Laura didn’t think Carmilla had ever mentioned her mother at all. On some level, she’d built up a backstory in her head where she and Will were orphans and they had inherited their massive house from their late parents. She wanted to ask more about their mother; it was on the tip of her tongue, but she was too scared to push. She was being given _some_ information, unprompted - if she broke the spell there was no doubt that Carmilla would immediately retreat back into her shell.  
  
Laura couldn’t help looking around at the room they were in, her eyes focused on the shiny grand piano in the corner. Did that come from hard work at all? Was it just for show? The plush cream carpet underneath it looked so soft, Laura wanted to take her shoes off and bury her toes in it.

“Do you play at all?” She asked.

Carmilla tilted her head. “A little. I was never that great at it.”

They both sighed. Laura tried to look out the window, but from this angle, it wasn’t easy to see the river. They were too high up. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned the piano, because now it was even harder to get them back on topic. She counted airplane trails in her head to distract herself and try to defuse some of the tension she felt in her tummy.

“Her name was Ell.” Carmilla finally said. “The last time I got attached to someone. I mean, the _only_ time I ever got attached to someone. She was murdered. Two years ago. It was my fault.”

 _I’m a danger to others,_ Carmilla’s words played back in Laura’s mind. Then, LaFontaine’s: _she would kill me._ What the fuck had Carmilla done?

“We’d been together two years. We lived together. She was the only person I’ve ever loved. The only person who was ever truly mine. I...” She licked her lips. “You look unbelievably shocked to hear me admit I was once capable of feelings.”

Laura bristled, and she was about to deny it, but Carmilla continued.

“She went to Uni, and I worked 6 days a week. One night, she was meant to come and pick me up from work, but she never showed. I called her again and again... no reply. When I got home - not this place, we had a flat - there was an ambulance outside, and -”

Carmilla had to take a break. Her breath got ragged, but she covered her eyes with one hand and got it back under control without Laura’s help before resuming her story.

“Ell was attacked by a man in our home. She was… stabbed… and left there to die. They had her on a gurney when I got there, and I knew they wouldn’t let me on the ambulance if I said I wasn’t family. I don’t know how I had the lucidity to say so, but I pretended we were sisters. She never even made it to the hospital, Laura. I saw her take her last breath. It was horrifying.”

Laura paused to ponder what one said in these cases. “At least you were there with her. You were the last face she saw. And she knew you loved her.”

Carmilla scoffed. “You think that makes me feel better?”

“No.” Laura shook her head. “I know it doesn’t.”

She thought some more. “I’m sorry that when I didn’t show up on time it brought all of that back.”

“I wish it was just that, creampuff. There is so much more. I still have pretty regular dreams about it, and -” She stopped mid-sentence, as if she wanted to say more and then changed her mind. “I get flashbacks sometimes. The smallest thing could set it off. Remember when you went up to the market, really early on?”  
  
“I do.”

“Half of the buses going past had these adverts… adverts for the place I used to work when it all happened. I didn’t want to see them. I wish that place wouldn’t fucking _exist_.” Carmilla allowed herself a moment of anger in her otherwise poised retelling. “There are certain situations - certain things even - that make me feel like the ground has disappeared from under my feet and like I’m just freefalling. I never know when it’s going to happen and I never know what’s going to set it off. Sometimes it’s just the smell of bacon in the morning, you know.”

Laura furrowed her brow.

“From when we used to make breakfast.” Carmilla explained.

“Oh.” Laura looked at her mug; it seemed rude to reach for it and interrupt their conversation with something as light-hearted as drinking. But maybe it was also rude to ignore it, when Carmilla had made it for her. She rapped her fingernails on the handle, unsure what to do. “Did they find out who did it?”

“Yeah.”

Laura felt guilty for stopping to notice the velvet in Carmilla’s voice when they were discussing something so serious. “Did they find out why?”

Carmilla opened her mouth to answer, then reflected for a moment. “I mean - there are theories. But I don’t really believe them. And it doesn’t matter, because she’s not coming back either way.”

Laura pulled the mug a little closer to her, dragging the coaster alongside it. “Do you miss her?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that?”

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees and Laura felt like she’d been slapped in the face by her own stupidity. She guessed the conversation was probably closed now. “I’m sorry. There is nothing else I can say.”

“That’s all anyone ever said at first. ‘There is nothing else I can say, but also, Carmilla, you need to go back to your daily life’. ‘There’s nothing else I can say, but also, we understand that you don’t want to live there any more but you need to at least pack up and move out’. I couldn’t even stand _outside_ our flat, let alone go in. I felt like I had to re-learn how to breathe from scratch. So then they gave me all this medication. They put me in a clinic to keep an eye on me. And then it became, ‘you should take a walk. Take your mind off things.’” Carmilla quoted with fake enthusiasm. “The more I heard it, the less I wanted to do it. They made me try group therapy to force me to socialize and interact with other people. For a little while I felt like I was watching a movie instead of my own life, and when that feeling started I realized I couldn’t let them take over. I called my sister and told her to get me out, and she let me stay here -”

“You have a sister?” Laura interrupted.

Carmilla nodded. “This is her house. Of course, it was never meant to be a permanent solution until I realized that just crossing the threshold left me in a state of paralysis. But she doesn’t mind. She lives in Morocco, anyway.”

“You never mentioned her.”

“As I said. She’s not around a lot. But she’s there when it counts.”

Some people spoke with their entire body, animated, spirited. Carmilla hardly ever moved, there was a stillness about her, she was controlled in everything. Laura wasn't sure where she'd picked it up, it looked almost trained into her. She wanted to ask if Carmilla was like that as a child, too, if she was always a loner, contemplative, quiet, but she couldn’t imagine a younger LaF ever taking much notice, and they’d called her the ‘popular girl’.

“What does she think of the Ghosting?”

“Honestly? She thinks Will should leave me alone, but she also said that the worst that could happen was… nothing. If it didn’t make me better, it probably wouldn’t make me worse."

“And is it making you better?”

Carmilla’s voice shrank to a murmur. “No. But Mattie was right. It didn’t make me worse either.”

It was then that Laura realized a very dangerous truth. She wanted to hold Carmilla. Nobody should have to tell a story like the one Laura had just heard and not find comfort in the warmth of another human being. Despite being the smaller one, she wanted to welcome Carmilla into her arms and she wanted to kiss her forehead and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Even though it absolutely, positively wasn’t. Laura couldn’t bring people back from the dead.

She made a mental note to chastise LaF for being so secretive. If she’d known this three weeks ago, she could have avoided so many awkward moments. And really it wasn’t _that_ bad - other than Carmilla’s girlfriend dying and breaking her heart forever, of course - it could be a lot worse. Carmilla could have been a _murderer,_  for god’s sake. All the talk about Laura being in danger was just an overexaggeration, survivor’s guilt muddled up with reality. Clearly, Carmilla didn’t have some sort of curse that put everyone around her in danger. Will was still alive. LaF was still alive. As was Laura.

“How am I supposed to go home now, knowing this?”

“Not everything’s about you, cupcake. I’ve known this for two years, and I’m still here.“

“I mean, how am I supposed to leave you alone? That’s a terrible burden to live with.”

“Don’t I know it,” Carmilla drawled out the sentence, punctuating each word with self-deprecation. “Listen, Laura, I’ll be okay. What I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve made it so far, I know for a fact that I can at least keep going. If anything, it should make you feel reassured. You’re going to walk out the door like you do every shift, and you’re going to trust me not to do anything stupid.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Laura admitted.

“Yeah, well, you don’t need to. Those days are long gone.” Carmilla sighed, and focused her attention on the window once more.

Laura felt a lump in her throat. “Carm… do you _want_ to get better?”

“Honestly? I can’t say that I care.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura shares her worries with LaFontaine. (yours truly is concerned that she cannot get LaFontaine's voice right, or any other character's, for that matter.)
> 
> **content warning** discussion of suicidal thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle readers,  
> I am so sorry for disappearing for over a month. Things have happened, most of them really Not Very Good, and I'm not in a good place where I can produce new writing. All I needed was to finish this ONE scene to bridge the gap to the next few chapters, which have been written and ready to go (almost all of them) for a really long time.  
> I wrote this over two afternoons and I'm sorry if it's disjointed from any of the other chapters since it was written at such a different time/in a different mindset. I hope it still blends in well?  
> Also sorry for never replying to the last batch of comments - I will get round to that, eventually.  
> Thank you for sticking with this story xx

Laura walked, with a terror mounting in her stomach about the weekend ahead. To have to go home with this newfound knowledge that Carmilla had seen her girlfriend die, and spend two days just going about her business seemed impossible.

Sure, her next deadline was in 5 days, but who could write anything when Carmilla was stuck indoors, isolated, with no company? Laura wondered how many times a day she relived the memory of arriving home and finding Ell on a stretcher, fighting for her life. Someone like that should not have been left in a house on their own, 24/7. They should be surrounded by people, friends, family members - in or outside the mansion. Surely other people could see that.

She realized that she hadn’t stopped to thank Carmilla for her vote of trust, and she should have done, after the weeks of silence and anguish and guesswork. She also pondered why Carmilla had suddenly decided to tell her, and cursed herself for not asking. Sure, it bothered Carmilla that Laura was trying to diagnose her over the internet; she probably wanted that to stop. But that couldn’t possibly be all. Maybe the idea of Laura torturing herself bothered her also. Or maybe Laura had far too much faith in Carmilla having some human emotions, after all.

Maybe it was time to confront LaF. She could call them, even though it was almost dinnertime and they would know she wasn’t using her goggles at the time. There was no technical problem. She was just on her way home, and she was using the last of her credit to cry out how unjust it was that Carmilla was so alone.

They picked up on the third ring, and Laura sighed with relief.

“Thank god you’re available.”

“Is there something wrong, kid?”

Really and truly, there wasn’t. She’d had a chat with Carmilla, a little more intimate than any conversation they’d had up to that point, but Carmilla seemed to be absolutely fine to be left alone that evening. She wasn’t frenzied or out of control, and retelling the story, albeit traumatic, hadn’t sent her into any kind of panic attack.

“Do you think we could meet up, tomorrow?”

“Your review’s not for another week.”

Carmilla’s voice echoed in her head. _LaFontaine wouldn’t be happy if they knew,_ Carmilla had told her. She needed to make a decision, and quickly. Should she talk?

“I know. I just want to ask you a few questions about Carmilla - about her condition.”

“Back at it again, Laura? It’s -”

“She’s shared some things with me, and she mentioned they are things you know. So I’m not prying, or trying to get information out of you. I just want to discuss what I was told. By Carmilla. Out of her own will. I didn’t force her to do anything.”

“You don’t seem very forceful, kid.”

Laura narrowed her eyes, even though LaF couldn’t see her. “I know krav maga. I can be forceful if I need to.”

“Are you planning to _krav maga_ information out of me?” They sounded sarcastic, like they didn’t believe that Laura could take them in a fight.

“I really wouldn’t want to get to that point, LaF.” Laura was in no mood for jokes. “Half an hour of your time. An hour, tops.”

“You _do_ talk a lot.” LaFontaine interrupted. Again, Laura ignored the jibe.

“Do you know where the Silas Bakehouse is? Market Square, next to the Disney Store?”

They sighed. “You won’t take no for an answer, will you, frosh?”

“I won’t. And, FYI, I’m not even a freshman.”

=

Being back at the cafe’ after a month was weird. Laura arrived early to say hi to her manager, who let her have a drink and a slice of cake for free while she waited for LaFontaine. She thought until the very last minute that they wouldn’t show up, but they arrived bang on 10, carrying a briefcase. They sat down across from Laura and gave her their trademark toothy grin. Laura frowned; she didn’t feel like there was much to grin about.

Sarah-Jane, her old colleague, came to take LaF’s order.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” they said, even though both Laura’s plate and her cup were already empty and she was busy twisting her used napkin through her fingers, round and round until it made her skin burn.

Laura stared at LaFontaine’s clear blue eyes until they looked back at her. The second Sarah-Jane stepped away from the table, she finally blurted out, “Carmilla told me about Ell yesterday.”

Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Thanks for meeting with me.” She should have said those two things the other way around, but LaFontaine didn’t even pick up on that. They just looked… disappointed, although whether with Laura or with Carmilla wasn’t clear, and they were shaking their head.

“So many questions. So, so many questions. Like… why?”

For a minute, Laura felt resentful that after all their offers of friendship and help, they were making this so hard for her. “Have you thought that maybe, just maybe… she’s lonely?”

LaF raised an eyebrow. “The sarcasm. It hurts.”

They stared at Laura, waiting for her to continue, but when Sarah-Jane returned with cake and coffee and placed them down on the table, they broke eye contact and focused their attention on those, instead.

Laura’s frustration only grew with their silence, and she exploded, but being in a public place would only allow her as much as a contained stage-whisper, when really what she wanted to do was slap the table and make LaF’s cutlery rattle.

“How can you not be worried that she’s suicidal? She very heavily implied that she was in the past, and I almost didn’t want to leave, because what if something happens when I’m not there?”

LaF was quick to dismiss her. “Who said I wasn’t worried? Kid, we’ve got plenty of forms to track her progress. She’s never spoken about it, but she knows I had to read her medical records. We were monitoring her mood for weeks before the initial job advert even went up. We’re still monitoring it now. She never appeared to have a relapse.”

“So what you’re saying is, she’s not suicidal.”

“Not as far as I can see. I don’t think anyone’s that good a liar.”

“She saw her girlfriend die.” Laura insisted. “She was put in a _care home_ with people telling her how to feel and that she was basically doing grief _wrong_.”

LaFontaine seemed to ponder this. Their brow furrowed in concentration and Laura felt like they had pieces of the puzzle that she was missing, still. They knew something she didn’t. Or maybe Laura had just reached an all-new level of paranoia.

“That, alone, is no reason for someone to want to kill themselves.” LaFontaine explained, tentatively, as if they didn’t quite believe their own words. “Carmilla _now_ is not the same person who lived through that trauma. Carmilla Karnstein was _born_ from that trauma. She quite literally took on a new identity, and when it comes to respecting identities, believe me, frosh, I have a lot of first hand experience.”

Laura tried to interrupt; she had questions - a new identity? But LaF barraged on, “We do what we have to do to survive. And in spite of herself, Carmilla’s got survival instinct to spare. You can’t treat her like a broken thing.”

Laura flinched at the accusation. “She doesn’t know if she wants to recover. You don’t call that broken?”

“I call that the opposite of broken. If she was fragile, she would have given up a long time ago. She’s fighting, Laura. It may not seem like much to you because it’s not the way that _you_ would fight, but she’s doing her best.”

Their coffee must have been going cold, but they still took a sip, leaving Laura to ponder how Carmilla’s fighting was different from her fighting. How she would have reacted, had she been in Carmilla’s situation - could she really be sure that she wouldn’t have let panic and anxiety consume her?

“She’s doing her best,” Laura repeated, dumbstruck.

LaFontaine nodded, pushing a piece of cake around their plate. “You’re doing your best, too.”

“Really?" Laura scoffed. "Because it seems to me that my _best_ is just a nuisance. To you, to Carmilla, to fucking Will…”

LaFontaine froze mid-chew, and spoke with their mouth full. “Never heard you swear before.”

“You’ve literally met me like, twice.” Laura rolled her eyes.

LaFontaine seemed to consider this, and then tilted their head, conceding. “Just going by what I’ve heard, kid. The doing-your-best thing, not the prim-and-proper thing. Although, that too, I guess.”

“Carmilla talked to you about me?” Laura didn’t know why her cheeks were getting hot, but she hoped LaF couldn’t see her flushing. Why did she have to be the one facing the window?

“And this is surprising to you, why? You’re the person she sees the most. Of course she talks about you.”

Laura had never concerned herself with what Carmilla said about her. She thought she’d be less than an afterthought, a blip in Carmilla’s universe of reading and philosophizing and meeting girls on the internet. For Carmilla to have any sort of thoughts or opinions about her, that would make her significant. And Laura Hollis was not significant to anybody, except maybe her dad.

“You look _horrified_.” LaF commented.

“Well, yeah. I mean, up until yesterday, I could’ve sworn she hated me.” She tried her best not to make it sound like a question, like she wasn’t looking for some childish, desperate reassurance that _of course_ Carmilla didn’t hate her. She wanted to come across indifferent, not hopeful.

“Frosh,” LaFontaine shook their head, “If you want to be a journalist, you really need to get better at reading people.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla and Laura go to the theatre... kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to split this chapter into two smaller ones, but whatever way I broke it up it would have left one of the two halves far too short, so I decided to just post the whole thing in one go, seeing as my regular posting frequency has gone out the window. This chapter's had a lot of rewrites so it feels really disjointed to me because I kept adding and taking away bits and I had to make sure it fit in with the previous scene even though I wrote it months before (upside down emoji) enjoy xx
> 
> PS do Canadians spell theatre American-ly or British-ly? I'm doing my best to Americanize my spelling but I just can't bring myself to write theater, sorry...

It was odd to see that Carmilla had straightened her hair. Laura still didn’t see the need. Sure, Carmilla had more time on her hands than the average person, and she had to fill that time in some way. She always looked ready to go out at a moment’s notice, while Laura wore whatever she found on her bedroom floor that didn’t smell. Today, Carmilla was wearing a black lace halterneck, white jeans, and her usual biker boots. And she looked nervous.

“I hope this is okay with you. I mean, I get that it has to be, but this is kinda different from what you’ve done so far. I’m sending you to the theatre.”

“That’s great!” Laura had been prepared to say that, whatever the assignment, so it ended up sounding insincere even though she did mean it. It _was_ great, it was different; it was something she couldn’t afford to do the majority of the time. She didn’t need to ask to know that she’d have one of the more expensive seats, and it almost felt like taking advantage of Carmilla’s wealth. Laura was very aware that she was forcing herself to smile.

“I got you a ticket for _Wicked_. I’ve always wanted to see it. I love the book.”

Laura’s ears started ringing and suddenly she was no longer considering the moral implications of her outing. “You’re sending me to see _Wicked_? Really? Oh my god, I -”

She didn’t really know how to finish her sentence and, if it was anyone else, she would have hugged them. But this was Carmilla, and Carmilla was most comfortable at arm’s length from Laura. She was excited, though, Laura could see it. Her eyes sparkled and she was chuckling and Laura suddenly realised that that was why she’d changed her hair and dressed differently. They were going to the theatre, and she definitely looked the part.

“I’ve always wanted to see it. Unfortunately it opened just shortly before the… accident. I was working at the time, and I never managed to take an evening off.”

Laura took a step back, realizing that at the time, Carmilla must have planned this like a date. She was probably going to go with Ell - they were going to dress up and hold hands all throughout. They were going to order ludicrously priced champagne at intermission. Maybe they were going to buy t-shirts or hoodies from the souvenir stand.

This was going to be a very different matter altogether. Laura didn’t feel that she was going to see the show with somebody. She _was_ Carmilla; she had to be. Like Carmilla was just taking herself out, alone. Laura wasn’t Ell, and Carmilla didn’t want her to be. Which meant no one would care if Laura’s heart accelerated, or if she cried at the end. No one would care about how Laura felt at all. And she’d still have to go back to the penthouse and return her goggles like nothing had happened.

“I’m not dressed for the theatre.” She pointed out.

Carmilla shrugged. “It’s 2008, you can dress however you want. If you’re really uncomfortable you can borrow something of mine.”

Guilt washed over Laura; she tried to dry her sweaty palms on her jeans.

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you,” she said, accepting the envelope Carmilla was handing her.

Carmilla’s smile vanished immediately. “I’m not doing this for you.”

That response felt like a slap, and Laura’s eyes watered. She thought they’d made progress. Carmilla had opened up considerably, all of a sudden. So much, in fact, that Laura had needed to talk to LaFontaine about it. And now, another step back. Was this constant emotional rollercoaster really worth it?

Laura tried to hide her tears by turning to get the goggles. Maybe she should walk out. Ghosting contracts were hard to break, yes, but it should be easier, at least, before she had that dreaded review. She should surprise everyone by being the one to leave, by being selfish and ungrateful for once. No money in the world made up for being prey to some rich girl’s hot and cold moods. Some rich girl whom, she had to admit, she _liked_ , though it was inexplicable to her how or why. Some rich girl who Laura wanted to comfort for all the bad things that had happened to her and not yet broken her.

Truthfully, Laura, too, had been wanting to see the show for months, and she was going to try and enjoy her night. Maybe she would find a way to sneakily text Betty that she was going, and if she wanted to discuss the show with anyone at all, she could always set up a Skype date with her.

“Right.” She finally answered Carmilla. “Sorry.”

She didn’t bother saying goodbye. She headed out and walked to the nearest subway station.

=

There was a huge crowd waiting to go in. Laura found the end of the line and felt for her Blackberry in her jeans pocket, desperate to tell someone, anyone, the good news. Perry was the most likely candidate: Laura could see her sharing her enthusiasm. If Laura tried to keep her head on straight and only moved her eyes, she might be able to type up a text, just like she’d done on the cruise. But the angle was a little steeper here, and she should probably just keep staring of the back of the person queuing up before her. It was going to be easier to take a bathroom break and hope that there was signal inside the theatre.

But she was going to do Carmilla a disservice if she just made a beeline for the toilets without looking around. There was merchandising, with novelty items in various shades of green and pink. The carpet was green, also, and when Laura entered the auditorium, she probably would have found herself staring at the giant dragon puppet suspended above the stage even if she hadn’t been Ghosting.

“I hope you can see the smoke coming out of its nostrils,” Laura muttered under her breath. It was hard to stay mad at Carmilla, not when there was so much to take in, and talking, describing, communicating was such a huge part of it. Laura promised herself that she was going to do one nice thing at a time. All she had to do was go from point A to point B, forget about all that came before and just think about the here-and-now. _I’m not doing this for you._ Rationally, Laura knew that, but she’d let herself hope that something in their friendship had shifted after Carmilla’s confession. It hadn’t.

The curtain was painted like a map, with names of towns and rivers. Laura promised Carmilla that once she’d had her five minute rest break, they were going to read them all before the show started. One nice thing at a time.

= 

Intermission came. Although she hadn’t left the mansion on the best of terms, she couldn’t stand the quiet. It reminded her too much of how they’d been on the cruise, and how crushed she’d felt by their obstinate silence. She made a conscious effort to remember that she had no right to be mad: Carmilla had only told the truth, after all. Laura wasn’t here for herself, and Carmilla’s enjoyment came before hers.

“So far, so good?” She asked.

But Carmilla didn’t have time to reply, because Laura felt a light tap on her shoulder and when she looked up, a young usher in a purple waistcoat was towering over her.

“Miss? I’m sorry, you’re going to have to take those off. Filming and photography are not allowed in the theatre.”

“What? I’m not filming the show. These are just Ghosting goggles. They don’t -”

The usher interrupted her. “Miss, I’m just doing my job.”

“And I’m just doing mine.” Any residual anger for the way Carmilla had spoken to her earlier had just found the perfect outlet. JP, his nametag read. Laura was going to channel every argumentative customer she’d ever had in her cafe’ days, and JP was going to regret that he’d tried to pick a fight with a pissed off Ghost.

“Listen, I’m not filming the show. If anything, I am _streaming_ the show. She doesn’t get to keep a copy at the end. It’s not permanent.”

“I believe that someone… on the other end of those glasses… someone could be taking pictures of the actors on stage. And that is against our policy, Miss.”

“Are you telling me that in all these years you’ve never had anyone Ghosting in the audience? There’s going to be hundreds of people who want to see this show but can’t!”

From the earpiece, Carmilla tried to stop her. “Laura, please -”

“It’s not that common.” JP shrugged.  

Laura put her hand in her pocket and pulled out her ticket, which she waved right in front of his nose. “She paid for this and she’s watching the show. I’m just… a body.”

“Miss, please calm down.”

“Not until you apologize.” Laura pointed at her goggles. “And I don’t mean to me.”

Laura knew she was bluffing, and probably Carmilla did too: that she wasn’t the type of person who complains or kicks up a fuss. But damn, she was going to make sure that Carmilla saw the whole show if it was the last thing she did. She wouldn’t stand for injustice.

The boy must have realized he was in over his head, because he said “Let me go speak to my manager. It’s just… never happened before. I’m sure we can resolve this.”

Laura tried hard to regain control on her breathing - luckily, her heart rate didn’t transmit to Carmilla just yet.

“Check you out, cupcake.” Her voice came through, but it was tentative, like Carmilla wasn’t into that stupid nickname any more. “That was fiery.”

Laura shook her head. “I’m only doing what’s fair.”

She knew she’d won when the manager arrived, looking nervous and apologetic before she’d even said a word.

“I’m sorry, Miss Karnstein, you must forgive JP. We don’t get Ghosts very often around here, but we did issue a policy when Ghosting became legal. Of course you can stay and watch the second act.”

So maybe the woman had just read out the name printed on the ticket, but Laura appreciated that it sounded like her apology was directed at Carmilla. She had little to say other than thank you, and immediately sat back down. She’d got what she wanted, after all. Her temper had deflated as soon as JP had walked off.

She heard Carmilla take a deep breath and it reminded her that she should breathe, too.

“That was brave, Laura. Thank you.”

Laura wasn’t sure Carmilla had ever called her something that wasn’t _cupcake_. She knew it must have happened before, but she’d never quite noticed until now.

“Anytime,” She mumbled back, looking around at the lights, willing them to turn off and the orchestra to start up as soon as possible.

=

It bothered Laura that they had to keep the video link active even when she was just walking back to the mansion. She knew deep down that it was because Carmilla was supposed to experience the whole time Laura spent out of the house, but she felt so self-conscious. She’d cried at the end, just like she suspected, and even though she’d tried to hold her breath for long periods of time, there was a distinct possibility that Carmilla would have heard some of it. Also, some of those songs were so catchy, Laura had to stop herself from humming them on the way back. If she’d gone with Perry, or Betty, they’d be singing them together now. Betty would have made fun of her for crying, while Perry would have probably joined her.

Carmilla was silent. She wasn’t humming or discussing anything, and all Laura heard was level breathing. For all she knew, Carmilla had fallen asleep.

Luckily, she’d been given a key tonight. Carmilla wasn’t sure if the concierge would still be working when Laura got back in, so she’d given Laura her own set of keys so she just needed to get into the elevator, up to the top and let herself in, into the creepiest waste of space house she had ever set foot in. It felt quite surreal that Carmilla would even have a set of keys. She obviously didn’t need it, but it must have pre-dated the accident.

She was expecting to just put her glasses back and say goodnight, but she was not prepared for what she found in the studio room. Carmilla was sitting on top of her green chair, her feet on the armrest, watching the door with something like anticipation. Laura raised an eyebrow and slid the goggles back in the cradle.

“That was every bit as amazing as I hoped.” Carmilla declared.

It appeared that she was completely unaware just how rude she’d been before Laura had left for the theatre. It wasn’t that Laura didn’t know anyone moody, but Carmilla was something else.

And yet she couldn’t stop a grin from spreading over her features, all the while hating herself for her inability to stay mad at Carmilla. She was letting her Ghostee get away with so much that she wouldn’t normally tolerate from other people, and it probably had a lot to do with how stunned she was at Carmilla’s beauty and little to do with the fact she was her boss. Carmilla was hard to stay mad at, because she was breathtaking, and that was distracting.

“Oh my god, I know right?” She closed the gap between her and the armchair and before she knew it, she’d grabbed Carmilla’s hands with both her own and Carmilla hadn’t let go.

“That voice, that growl… genuinely never thought that someone could be attractive with green skin and yet here I am.”

Laura laughed and tried really hard not to look down. It was like her entire body had gone numb, and the only part of it that still had any feeling were the nerve endings in her hands. Her hands, which Carmilla was squeezing back. She almost didn’t realize that Carmilla was still speaking.

“It wasn’t as good as the book, though, but I already knew that.”

“I’ve never read it,” Laura admitted.

“You should! I’ve got it, if you want to -” now Carmilla was jumping off the chair and almost starting towards the door, towards the library downstairs no doubt, just to fetch a book that she wanted to lend Laura, but in less than a minute she must have realized just how odd it all was and stopped dead in her tracks. Her gaze went to the ground, to the toes of her boots very nearly touching Laura’s.

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. It was uncalled for.”

Laura looked at her as much as it was possible to look at someone who was pointedly avoiding her gaze. Carmilla didn’t have the red lipstick on today, but she was wearing a lot more eyeliner than usual, and it was still as intact as it had been five hours ago. She hadn’t cried, then. Must be good to switch your feelings on and off like a tap.

“The thing is, I get it. I get that none of this is for me and I’m just your employee. But I can still be grateful if I get to do something fun with you, you know? _For_ you.” She corrected herself immediately. “I mean for you.”

Carmilla looked at her then, narrowing her eyes like she was studying a species she’d never seen before. They were so dark, it was hard to tell iris from pupil most of the time. For a small person, she was incredibly intimidating. Laura gulped and tried to change the subject.

“You didn’t cry?”

Carmilla leaned back, sitting on the armrest this time. “It’s a good story, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t really love the ending. The book was a lot... gayer.”

Laura raised an eyebrow and one corner of Carmilla’s mouth curved up into her all familiar smirk.

“I knew you’d want to borrow it if I said that.”  

=

Laura started reading as soon as she sat on the bus home, but she couldn’t concentrate. On one hand, she was racking her brain for something she could lend Carmilla in return. It was only fair, and if she knew one thing about the girl by now, is that she loved a good book. But how was she ever supposed to find something Carmilla hadn’t read? She had all the time in the world and a fucking library in her own house.

On the other hand, Laura couldn’t get rid of the very vivid feeling of Carmilla’s fingers in hers. Of how close they’d stood and how much Laura had just wanted to hug her. She knew that hugs weren’t a miracle cure for trauma, but goddamnit, she wanted to try. Perhaps it could at least stabilize Carmilla’s moods, because if she was still taking medication for that, it sure as hell wasn’t working.

She was beautiful, and frustrating, and it made Laura want to scream and laugh and hit something all at the same time that she’d let herself feel something for Carmilla. She cursed the day she hadn’t followed Danny’s advice and just applied for the safe, less well paid VP position at the University. Not that there was any guarantee that she would ever have got it, but there were perks to not taking risks. If she hadn’t taken a gamble, she wouldn’t have met the single most confusing person in the universe. She wouldn’t have started noticing what she was wearing each time, and the colour of her eyes or the exact angle of her curls. She wouldn’t have had to fight off the urge to touch her and hug her and hold her which swept over her in tides depending what mood Carmilla was in. She wouldn’t have wanted to tell Carmilla that yes, she was dangerous... but not in the way that she thought.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura discusses her theatre trip with Perry, and realizes that she's been a bad friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is also a filler chapter and another one where I struggled to get the different characters' voices right. But it's kind of a big deal because Laura is admitting to someone else that she _likes_ Carmilla like, properly. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's leaving comments!! I've not been the best at replying to comments in the last month or so, and I don't want anyone to think that I'm ungrateful because every email notification I get for a comment makes my heart jump with joy!!!

“Hey, mopey. Why so sad? Didn’t you say you went to see _Wicked_ last night?”

Laura was having breakfast. If having breakfast meant pushing cereal around her bowl with a spoon and using the slight crackling and hissing noises it made as a rhythm to bop her head to, rather than as a signal that the cereal was getting soggy.

Perry whooshed into the kitchen in her silk dressing gown and put the kettle on. Laura watched as she grabbed a mug and spooned some instant coffee into it.

“I did,” She forced herself to answer. “And I’m not mopey. Just… confused.”

Perry turned to look at her, brow furrowed. “You didn’t like it?”

“I did.” Laura hurried to explain. “It was great. It’s just what happened after that confused me.”

Somehow, Perry managed to keep her expression neutral until Laura could come up with the right words to continue.

“Carmilla got really excited about it. I say _really_ , but you know what I mean. As excited as Carmilla can get. She insisted on lending me the book, I started it last night.”

Reaching for Laura’s soy milk, Perry raised an eyebrow at her to ask if she could use some. When Laura nodded, she topped up her coffee and sat down, then she lifted the mug to her face, without taking a drink.

“I’m glad you guys are growing closer, sweetie. She’s only human, she needs a friend. It might help her overcome whatever it is that’s holding her back.”

It wasn’t that Laura hadn’t thought that herself: she had, and the idea had been shut down by LaF as soon as she’d expressed it. To hear it from Perry was kind of hurtful, a reminder that as much as her heart was in the right place, other people never quite seemed to see it.

"I feel that because a couple of people are expecting her to overcome what’s holding her back and, I don’t know, _miraculously_ get better, she wants to do it even less.” Laura shook her head. “Then on the other hand LaFontaine loves to remind me that you don’t suddenly get over trauma just because you find a friend. And I see their point, but I just want to help.”

Laura hadn’t shared Carmilla’s story with Perry. Nor with Betty. Even though it hadn’t been explicitly said, she was pretty sure that it had been told in confidence, and she would never do anything to betray Carmilla’s trust.

Perry blew into her mug gently, to try and cool the coffee down. “I still don’t get what it is that you’re confused about.”

Laura sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

“Carmilla. She’s moody. Sometimes, I feel like she likes me. You’re right, we _could_ be friends. There’s plenty of things we could be talking about. But sometimes… sometimes I look at her and I just see… nothing. No spark in her eyes. Like she’s empty. She scares the shit out of me, Perr, and at the same time I want her to care about me. I held her hands last night and she didn’t flinch away.”

“Wait a minute,” Perry looked disturbed. “You never told me that you had feelings for her.”

“You know what that’s like,” Laura said, even though she wasn’t sure Perry did at all. Two years of friendship, and Perry had never shown an interest in anyone at all. Her life revolved entirely around studying and baking. “The minute you say it out loud, it becomes more real and completely impossible to escape.”

_And I didn’t completely admit it to myself until I had her hands in mine,_ she mentally added.

“But what about Danny?”

It was pretty safe to say that Danny and Perry hardly knew each other. They knew of each other’s existence, had met maybe twice, that was basically it. But Perry, ever the hopeless romantic, had always rooted for Laura to find someone.

“I don’t think I would ever want to be with Danny. She’s a friend, yes, but we’re too different. It’s like she exists on a completely different plane to me.” A plane in which people actually had self-confidence and didn’t feel numb most of the time. “That’s not to say Carmilla and I aren’t different, but I just feel like this is someone I can actually reach out to. Someone I can actually talk to. And she’s so beautiful, Perr. You have no idea.”

“Danny’s beautiful.” Perry pointed out.

“Okay, you’re not wrong about that.”

“I will concede that you’ve never spoken about Danny the way you spoke just now. It was always more ‘Danny’s so cute and I can’t take my eyes off her’ and this is… very different.”

Laura blushed. “I might not _want_ to be with Danny, but I _can’t_ be with Carmilla. So I’m not even sure there is much point having this conversation.”

“You never know, sweetie,” Perry put her hand on top of Laura’s. “You’re a good person. I would never suggest that you skip your 10am, but do you want to have a girls’ day out, you know, later?”

“Perry, your thesis deadline is in… oh, shit.” Perry’s submission deadline was yesterday, and Laura had been so absorbed in her personal drama that she’d forgotten to celebrate it with her.

“Right, _I’m_ taking you out.” She said. She had some money put aside from her last waitressing paycheck, and the first Ghosting one was due in two days. “I’ve been a terrible friend. And _you_ might never suggest that I skip my 10am, but I might and I _will_.”

=

Girls’ days out with Perry tended to be a subdued affair, which suited Laura just fine. Perry wasn’t cut out for shopping, unless they were talking farmers’ markets and arts and crafts shops. They both enjoyed going to the cinema, or sitting in a coffee shop, even though Perry scrunched her nose at their pre-packaged cakes and preferred independent tea rooms. When they didn’t have any studying to do, Perry would knit whilst Laura wrote fanfiction on spiral notebooks and never shared it.

It was a very different friendship from the one she had with Betty. She and Betty never sat in silence: they always did something, went somewhere, especially now that they lived so far apart and they felt like every moment needed to count. With Perry, there weren’t many activities that involved talking at all, which was odd, because when Perry talked, it was at a hundred miles a minute and even Laura found it hard to keep up.

Laura had been very unfair to Perry. She’d shut her out and told her hardly anything about how work was going. She told herself that it was because Perry needed to concentrate on writing her dissertation, but really, it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Laura not being ready. She’d given Perry crumbs of information, she’d given some others to her dad, and the most to Betty, but not one of them could see the whole picture because she’d so carefully told each person different pieces of the puzzle.

They took the bus to a tea room up a hill that was a good 40 minutes away from their flat, but that they both believed was worth the journey. For the first time in her life, Laura ordered purple cake, just to see what the fuss was about. She thought about getting a take-away slice for Carmilla, but she wasn’t seeing her for another two days, and it would likely go stale in the meantime. It would have been nice to take it as a small gesture, though.

She did not mince her words when starting conversation. “I’ve been a shit friend,” she explained, placing her right hand upon Perry’s. “I was so caught up in everything that was happening with me that I stopped asking how you were. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, sweetie… I was probably too busy to notice. I mean, your schedule changed a little, in the mornings, but it’s not like we were having dinner together every night. You’re always eating cookies in your room.”

Laura looked down sheepishly.

“Well, go on then. Tell me how your dissertation went. When do you get your grade back?”

So Laura listened to Perry talk about home-schooling and learning styles and, for a minute, she felt like her life had reverted back to old times, before she’d met the quiet tornado that was Carmilla Karnstein with her stupid leather trousers and the red lipstick.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura's told Perry, so she might as well tell more people now. Still a Carmilla-less chapter, but at least she gets talked about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, a month since I last posted. Sorry about that. This was yet another scene which just sat there half-written and begged for some touch-ups and as fate would have it, the touch-ups came at a moment when I'm not really feeling amazing and so this reads incredibly dark and depressive. I have always said that I'm writing Laura less sunshine-y and fluffy than the real thing but I think I might have overdone it this time.

Laura Hollis never thought of herself as someone who was not in tune with her feelings; quite the opposite, in fact. Despite the fact that she hated crying and she hated people seeing her cry, she’d never really struggled to verbalize how she felt, which is why she considered herself pretty good at writing and blogging.

But this was different. Admitting that she liked Carmilla had taken her longer than usual, and it was still so recent she could pinpoint the exact moment that she’d figured it out. It was when she’d realized that she couldn’t stay mad at her. That she wanted to share moments with Carmilla, look at the view from the top of a hill with her, or watch a show, or hear a piece of music. It was when she realized that she listened out for Carmilla’s breathing to try and fathom her mood over their headset, and always found herself wishing that she’d find the kind, funny Carmilla today and not the rude, detached one. But while it was easy to push it to the back of her mind when she was alone, it got all the more complicated once someone else acknowledged it.

Carmilla wasn’t “ _I really want to kiss her_ ” like her first girlfriend had been, she wasn’t “ _I’m too shy to talk to her_ ” like Danny Lawrence - in fact, it was required by her job description that they spoke, and it had never been a problem. Carmilla was “ _I want her to be happy. I need her to be happy. I will not be happy until she’s happy_ ”. Carmilla made her think - about the world and about fairness and about loss. Her life had been shaped by her grief much like Laura’s, and they’d both be very different people right now if they hadn’t experienced those losses.

And Carmilla, despite her snippy words and blunt manners, had never once put Laura down for anything. She’d never said _you’re reading the wrong books, you’re watching the wrong shows, you’re studying the wrong thing._

Granted, they’d never had much time to talk about Laura’s pastimes anyway. And who wanted to admit to their boss they wrote slash fanfiction? Still, Laura felt it was uncharacteristically easy to be herself around Carmilla. Even with their class difference, it felt more natural than being around Danny’s self-assured righteousness. Laura’s _natural_ was a goofy, stuttering, speak-before-you-think avalanche, but Carmilla had no right to judge her from her self-inflicted cage. And even if she did judge, there was no one for her to share her opinions with. She would never run to LaFontaine and laugh, “Did you see what Laura did? How she embarrassed herself?” No, the secrets of Laura’s impossible mundanity were safe up in the ivory tower with the marble floors and the two living rooms. Perhaps Carmilla just had to take Laura as she was, because she had no other choice. Somehow, they were stuck together, for better or worse.

And right now, it was _for worse_. Feelings could only complicate things. Right now, Laura needed to speak to Betty and have a good dose of sense knocked into her before she went and did something stupid like actually _telling_ Carmilla. But Betty was really, really behind on the work news, because Laura hadn’t spoken to her since before she’d found out about Ell, and Laura didn’t trust herself to mention anything about Ell without crying for Carmilla. So she skipped over the backstory, straight to the previous night, straight to JP getting in the way of Carmilla’s enjoyment; she let the anger come back, and let that lead the conversation, and she let Betty fill in the blanks because _this_ had barely even started and Laura was already tired.

“...and then this usher came over and wanted me to turn the goggles off and I was so outraged, and it was so unfair…”

Betty just smirked. “It seems like you’ve finally cottoned on.”

Laura let herself play dumb just for a few more instants. “Cottoned on to what?”

“You _like_ her.”

“You knew?” Her heart started beating a million miles an hour, and suddenly she wanted to deny it, even though telling Betty was the entire reason she’d asked to Skype in the first place.

“Honey, everyone that’s been reading your blog knows that you’re in love with her.”

_Love_ was a big word. Laura was struggling enough with _crush_ to be ready to take it up a notch. She felt like rejecting everything that Betty was saying now. This call had been a stupid idea. “I’m sorry, but how do you know that I’m not just outraged in the name of _justice_?”

“You’re not obsessively writing about how much you want to be _friends_ ,” Betty accompanied the word with air quotes, “with justice.”

Laura felt her cheeks burn and had no idea what to say as a defense. She tried to make it about semantics.

“Justice is a concept, Betty. Not a person. What you’re saying makes no sense.” She blurted out, then paused and pondered a much more real, much scarier idea. “You think my dad knows?”

Betty sighed. “He’s got your blog on email notification. So I’m inclined to say yes.”

"He’s never mentioned it.”

“Laura, do you not know your father? He’s bad at talking about feelings. His solution to everything seems to be cans of bear spray. Blown lightbulb? Bear spray. Burst tyre? Bear spray. Besides, he only wants you to be happy anyway.”

“Well, I’m not very happy right now. This is the worst crush ever.” She felt so drained, and she didn’t know if the cause was admitting to being unhappy, or admitting to having a crush. Her body felt heavy and tired as if she’d exercised nonstop for several days, but it was just the weight of those words.

“You don’t have to act on it if you don’t want to. It’s not an obligation.” There it was. The voice of reason. Lesson one in self-control. “You know, I’ve never asked you what this Carmilla looks like, anyway. What’s so special about her? Do you have a picture?”

“ _Oh hello, boss, I don’t suppose we can take a photo together with my rubbish phone camera? My best friend wants to see you._ ” Laura mocked.

“Describe, Laura. You’re meant to be a _writer_. Or a blogger at the very least.”

“Dark hair. Down to about here.” Laura marked a spot with her hand, just above her breast. “Wavy. Brown eyes. She’s just… gorgeous. Pale. Imagine a goth, but no big panda eyes. And red lipstick.”

“You can’t use red lipstick as a defining feature.”

“I can when she always wears it. I’ve never seen her without.” Strictly speaking, this wasn’t true, but whenever Laura thought of Carmilla and tried to conjure up an image of her in her mind, she was never without her lipstick. “She looks a bit… vampiric, actually.”

“Sounds a bit different from your usual type.”

Betty had a point. Danny was much more Laura’s type - active, sunny, animated. Someone who kept actual colours in her wardrobe and not just shades of black and grey. Someone who actually did things _outside_ , and wasn’t sarcastic, and was straightforward but not straight. No mysterious past; but also, no energy vibrating in the room whenever she was near. No eyes so deep she could lose herself in them. No desperate need to make her happy, because Danny was already happy. A smile from Danny was no rarity; a smile from Carmilla was a flashbomb. Laura’s ears were ringing just thinking about it.

So maybe her type had changed - from down-to-earth, doesn’t-need-chasing to fully unattainable. It was exactly the kind of self-destructive move that Laura Hollis expected of herself.

“I think you’re probably right. Maybe I should ask Danny out on a date.”

“Stop beating a dead horse, Laura. You know she’s not what you want. And however many subscribers you have? They all know that, too.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After two chapters with literally no Hollstein interaction, here. Have some awkward flirting. There may even be some waltzing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quickly checked when I last posted and it's been almost a month, so I had a look if I had enough written and ready to go that could make a decent length chapter. After this, I have another bit that's only just a draft that needs developing, and then after the draft I have two other chapters that are actually good to post, so I really should be working on bridging this gap!! The sun is out in London (don't know how long for, basically the way things go around here I may wake up tomorrow and it's snowed tbh) and usually this does improve my creativity so we shall see what I can do. 
> 
> Sorry for being absolutely awful at replying to comments recently, I am very grateful to anyone who is still here for this ride, particularly to [JG Firefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Call/pseuds/JG%20Firefly) for sometimes discussing ideas with me despite the fact I log in to tumblr maybe once a month if I remember, which does not make for very stimulating conversation and I'm sorry! Anyone else want to talk, I'd give you my tumblr but it has literally been untouched for m o n t h s, but you can maybe follow me on twitter @sadlingofficial if you can keep up with constant FATM/Lady Gaga/Sara Bareilles fangirling and talk about heartbreak, terrible mental health & all the ways my tiny colleague whomst I am secretly dating reminds me of actual Carmilla.

It had started. The smiling for no reason. Going to Carmilla’s was never going to be the same, at least until Laura got her feelings under control. She was an awkward person at the best of times, but being tempted to flirt with Carmilla every time she opened her mouth was certainly not going to make things any easier.

She couldn't tell if Will had already left for the evening - she never could - so she tried to train her face into a scowl or at the very least a resting bitch face, just for the time it took to cross the threshold, and reach the stairs. The minute she stepped into the studio she could feel the corners of her mouth pulling again, just through the sheer joy of being there, with Carmilla. Carmilla who was crouched down on her armchair instead of sitting properly; Carmilla who was looking at her curiously and offered a smirk in return.

“Creampuff.” She greeted.

“Carm.”

“You look happy today.”

“Yeah, I uhm… I finished your book. Brought it back.” She hoisted her backpack onto the table and went to retrieve it.

Carmilla hopped off her chair and took it from her. “You read that in three days?”

“Actually, I read it in two. Spent this morning finishing an essay, an hour before the deadline.” She made a rock’n’roll gesture. “Livin’ on the edge.”

“Impressive.” Carmilla commented, hugging the book to her chest. “What did you think?”

“You were definitely right about the gay.”

Carmilla gave her a triumphant smile. She was only slightly taller than Laura, but managed to somehow look at her through her thick eyelashes as if she was the smaller one. “I knew you’d like it.”

“You… you think about what books I would like?”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Occasionally.”

She waved the book in front of Laura’s face and went to sit back on her chair - this time, with one knee pulled up to her chest and her arms around it. Recognising that this was a pre-Ghosting ritual, Laura asked, “What’s the plan for today?”

“How do you feel about museums?”

She clapped her hands together. “I love museums!”

Carmilla looked at her bemusedly and Laura thought it was the most relaxed she’d ever seen her. Her heart was doing a weird thing where it felt light as a feather and she’d already forgotten that she was supposed to be keeping a straight face.

“Isn’t it funny how you usually like them a child, hate them in middle school and high school, then like them again as an adult?” Carmilla asked.

Laura thought about it. “I don’t think I’ve ever disliked museums.”

“You’re killing me, Hollis. You are -” she paused for effect, “a true nerd!”

“You just pronounced that as if it’s got capital letters,” Laura laughed.

Carmilla tilted her head. “Yet another of my many skills.”

Okay, this was too easy. Or dangerous, or both. Laura was reading anything that came out of Carmilla’s mouth as flirting, when she knew perfectly well that she’d always been like this and only now, Laura had started hearing what she wanted to hear.

“What museum am I going to? Science? Natural History? Oooh, something else to do with stars?”

Carmilla chewed the tip of her finger for a minute and shook her head.

“There’s an exhibition about the history of costume in theatre and musical films that I want to go to. It starts from the 1600s all the way to now. I am also a girl of many interests, as well as one of many skills.” She winked. Laura did a double take.

“Just checking - is that a Xena reference? Because it would be really cool if you - you know...”

Carmilla laughed, and Laura noticed how every time she did, it sounded more open, more sincere than the last.

“Cupcake, I was born in the 80s and I am gay as a Christmas tree. Of course it was a Xena reference.”

Once again, Laura was thankful that Carmilla lived in almost perpetual darkness, because judging by how hot her face felt, she was probably about five shades redder than usual.

“I’ve booked a ticket under your name. You just need to get yourself there, and I’m going to give you some cash, because they’re bound to have a gift shop, and I’m going to want some postcards or something.”

When Carmilla handed her a twenty, Laura deliberately let her touch linger a moment longer than necessary. Even though Carmilla’s skin was always cold - Laura was pretty convinced by this point that if not a vampire, she was at least a reptile - it sent a jolt of warmth through her entire body. She crammed the note into the tiny pocket of her jeans, not really caring if she scrunched it, wanting to keep eye contact with Carmilla for as long as she’d let her.

She smiled.

Carmilla smiled.

She forgot to say “Okay”, or anything else that would let Carmilla know she’d understood her instructions and was ready to go.

She just wanted to kiss her.

Fuck.

=

Laura took the bus to the museum. She went onto the upper deck even though it was drizzling outside and the windows were a little fogged up. She drummed her fingers onto the empty seat in front, nervous for no reason, trying to make sense of her feelings.

Her mind was telling her that she and Carmilla were going on a date. Which was ridiculous, because Carmilla wasn’t _there_ , and because they were not a couple. They were hardly even friends. Sure, Laura knew some very painful details about Carmilla’s life that not many people knew. But that didn’t mean they were friends. It just meant that Carmilla was a ticking time-bomb of things she kept secret, and she was bound to explode at some point, and it just so happened to be on a day Laura was around. It had just been a game of hot potato.

Then again, it wasn’t unheard of, these days, for people to get into relationships with someone they’d never even met. They’d been doing that for well over a decade, by this point, and Laura was already ahead of them. For one, she knew what Carmilla looked like. They’d been in the same room several times. And she knew that what she saw was what she got, with her, and Carmilla wasn’t just some stranger, lying about her life, saying all the right things to make Laura fall in love. If other people could say that they were dating someone they’d never even seen, then Laura could bloody well consider this a date. And _Wicked_ had been one, too. Only, that had been a date where they’d bickered slightly before going out, but by the time they got home, they were okay again and they would each go to bed with the memory of having a great time.

Carmilla wasn’t very talkative during the journey. In fact, she didn’t really speak at all. She hummed quietly as Laura hopped off the bus and walked up to the ticket office, slipping her student ID off her lanyard to pick up her ticket. Laura didn’t say anything about the singing, this time. It didn’t seem to have a purpose like that time at the beach - she just took it as a sign that Carmilla was relaxed enough in her presence to let herself go a little.

The lobby was visible from where she was standing, painted a muted red and with a centrepiece of two mannequins - a man and a woman - the man in what looked like a military uniform and the woman in a gown and a wig so tall it was bigger than her head. There was a big sign advising to choose either a chronological, anti-clockwise route, or a clockwise route that, although it could be slightly confusing, would probably be less crowded.

“Which way are we going, m’lady?”

Truthfully, Laura didn’t think she was that good at flirting. She was hyper-aware of everything she said. Flirting was unwilling innuendo rolling freely out of your mouth; flirting was seeing just how far you could push, but this felt like the exact opposite. She rehearsed her lines in the split second it took before she said them, and tried to appear casual and unaffected whilst at the same time imagining the effect they’d have on Carmilla.

And Carmilla faltered, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. She’d already started to respond, but there was a split-second pause when she heard Laura’s pet name. Oh, Laura could give as good as she got, and this was only just the beginning.

“The proper way,” Carmilla said. “I don’t mind if it takes longer, the museum doesn’t shut for two hours.”

Laura didn’t mind either. The longer this date lasted, the better. She walked into the first room on her right, which was about the birth of opera as a medium, and set about looking at the various displays, pausing on the flashcards for an appropriate amount of time so that Carmilla could read them, and awaiting her instructions. Carmilla hardly spoke, at first, but became more animated as Laura went on through the rooms and the centuries, when she started to recognize more of what she was seeing.

Any minute now, Laura was half-expecting Carmilla to start singing along with the soft music that was coming through the speakers, which changed in each room. It was something she’d kind of come to expect from her oddball boss. But Carmilla never ceased to surprise her, and what Laura heard instead, sometime between the 18th and 19th century rooms, was shuffling and stomping noises that drifted away from Carmilla’s armchair, only to come back again after a few seconds.

She couldn’t help but ask. “Carm, what are you doing?”

Carmilla sounded a little breathless as she answered, “Checking if I remember how to waltz.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

“I could waltz, once upon a time.” It was clear that Carmilla didn’t think this was particularly shocking information.

“You can’t just say that and not expect me to ask. Why on earth would you know how to waltz?”

Carmilla hesitated. “It was a long time ago and I was only ever shown the basics. I’ll try and give you a demonstration when you get back.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Laura gulped, even though waltzing was hardly scandalous, it still required a lot more closeness than she and Carmilla had ever shared. She was going to make a fool of herself. Maybe she was going to trip and stumble and her lips would land on Carmilla’s, just like that, by _accident_.

She let Carmilla’s comment go unacknowledged because she simply didn’t know what else to do. She wondered at which point her heart would become so loud that the goggles would start picking up the noise and transmitting it to Carmilla.

She moved to the next room, and hoped this one wouldn’t be playing a tango.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura is still walking around an exhibition about theatre and costume. Carmilla promised her a waltzing demonstration when she gets back home, and Laura's not entirely sure if she wants this to happen or not. There's some flirting, and some Sharing Gay Milestones. idek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I have been absolutely awful at this and we all know it. I've not posted in 3 months and once again, all I needed was a little bridge of a scene between something I had and a bunch more, ready to go chapters that I knew people would really enjoy because things were starting to get serious (probably about 3 or 4). But I've got to be honest, once those few make their way onto AO3 I don't know if I will ever actually able to finish this. Saying that though, I've been working on something else on the side and I am getting more ideas, I just don't really have a lot of faith in myself. 
> 
> It's really rather embarrassing that it took me 3 months just to adjust 1300 words and turn them into something halfway decent. Hope everyone's been well. x

There was a number of ways that Laura could think of to avoid the waltzing demonstration she’d been promised. She could say she had an injury. It was against her religion. Or maybe she had a terrible… allergy… to dancing. She wanted to be close to Carmilla, but she didn’t know what she’d do, if she ever did get close enough. 

Now she was looking at sketches and character designs for The Lion King, and Carmilla made her walk around a set model of the stage for Phantom of the Opera at least three times before allowing her to move on. 

“Do you want to go and see this show next?” Laura hazarded a guess. 

“Absolutely not.” Carmilla fired back before Laura had even finished her question. 

“O... kay? Is there anything else you’d like to see next, then?”

“There’s a revival of Rent starting up in the next couple of weeks. Perhaps that.” 

Laura had no idea what that was. 

“You’ve heard of Rent, Cupcake, haven’t you?”

Silence. 

“I thought you’d be all over anything that’s got a girl/girl couple. Case in point,” she fake-coughed, “Wicked.”

“Are you trying to make me feel like I’m a bad gay?” Laura burst out, a little too loud. A couple of heads turned to look at her, and she suddenly feigned interest in a series of 1960s block colour posters to her left. 

“All gays are good, cupcake, I don’t make the rules. When did you come out?” This was definitely date talk, Laura thought. She’d never been on a date where this hadn’t been discussed. She suddenly realised it had never come up with Danny, which would therefore confirm she and Danny had never in fact dated, but only ever had friendly hangouts. 

“3 years ago. About 16.”

“I thought you were 21.”

Laura couldn’t believe that this conversation was happening, but she was pretty sure nobody minded by this point. “You guys never asked. I mean, LaF would know, they have my date of birth. It’s on all the forms. I’m surprised you never noticed. I’m 19. I turn 20 on Saturday.” 

There was no reaction from Carmilla, and Laura calculated that there was about a 50-50 chance of this being a good thing. Seeing as she hadn’t exploded with anger at the realization, she probably didn’t mind, so she tried to change the subject. 

“Carm - I was discussing this with my friend recently - is that why you picked me?”

“Aww,” Carmilla said in a mocking tone, “You talk to your friends about me?”

Okay, maybe she  _ was  _ angry. There was a certain edge to Carmilla’s voice that made her question sound unfriendly, rather than flattered. It was Laura’s turn to remain silent, mostly out of embarrassment. 

“No. that’s not at all why,” Carmilla sighed. That seemed to suggest that there was another reason. “Besides, it’s not like I knew the instant I saw you.” 

For a fleeting second, Laura did want to ask,  _ When did you know? _ But it didn’t entirely matter, she was far more preoccupied with whatever the other reason could be. She absent-mindedly walked into the next room, and when she saw the neat row of mannequins behind a glass window she commented out loud, “Hey, look who’s here!”

Several costumes from the main characters of Wicked were on display in the dimly lit room, with warm spotlights making them the focal attraction. Even though Laura’s seats at the theatre had been excellent, she was thrilled to be able to look at them up close. The detail on the women’s costumes was so intricate, she physically had to stop herself from splaying her fingers on the glass and touching her nose to it like an excited child. 

“That must weigh a tonne,” Carmilla commented, when Laura’s gaze was pointed to the most elaborate of the dresses. From afar, it had just looked black, but now they could both see that it was decorated in gold, copper and of course, green thread. That every fold of the skirt, which curled around like whipped cream, was hemmed with sequins in those same colours. 

“You want to be Elphaba, don’t you.” Laura hazarded a guess. 

Carmilla’s voice sounded small, almost pained. “What makes you feel that way?”

“Dark, dangerous and misunderstood.” Laura smiled. For once, she didn’t even need to mentally rehearse that line before saying it. She left out  _ incredibly beautiful_ , and  _ clever  _ and  _ witty _and all the other good things that were coming to mind too rapidly. 

Carmilla startled her with her response. “Actually, cupcake, I’d rather be Glinda.”

“Oh.” Not knowing what to do with that information, Laura quieted, and went back to thinking of what expected her when she got back to the mansion.

=

She could drop hints she wasn’t feeling well while on the bus ride home; she could say she needed to go home and study for an exam which wasn’t for another two months. She could be sanctimonious and tell Carmilla that she thought it would be inappropriate, and watch her face fall and then feel guilty about it for days.  She didn’t need to worry, because once she was back in the studio, Carmilla made no mention of it; perhaps expecting Laura to make the first move, perhaps having somewhat sobered up during her bus journey home and realized that there should probably be boundaries between a boss and her employee. 

Laura handed over a plastic bag containing two prints that Carmilla had requested from the gift shop; she’d paid extra to have them framed which to careful, pennywise Laura Hollis has seemed a bit extravagant. Then again, maybe Carmilla didn’t want to go through the hassle of buying frames online and work on decorating herself. Although, surely, she should have wanted more ways to pass time. 

The posters were for shows that Laura had never heads on, confirming once again that there was definitely such a division as Musical Theatre Gays versus Sports Gays, and she’d definitely never qualified to be the former. She wondered if Carmilla knew anything about sports at all. Not that she’d witnessed much overlap between the two categories, but there had to be at least  _ some_.

“So, I’ll get going then,” she said when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. She wanted to ask Carmilla where she was going to put up the prints, whether they’d be in her bedroom or in their studio where Laura could see them also. She was starting to resent Carmilla's online buddies looking at things in Carmilla’s room that Laura had bought during Ghosting. Of course, she would never say. Bottling things up was new to Laura, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. There was a layer of uneasiness that had lived under her skin for a few months, like a low humming in the distance that never quite left. 

“Laura,” Her name still sounded so foreign on Carmilla’s lips. “Can you work one more time this week?”

Laura bristled; instead of saying what she wanted to say, she answered the question with another question.

“You know my availability is on the control panel, right?” All of their Ghosting engagements were booked through a handy little programme on Carmilla’s computer that looked like it still ran on Windows 95. It was fine, for what they needed. It sent Laura texts with dates and times that she was needed to work, and let her black out days she wasn’t around. It would have taken mere seconds for Carmilla to check, and it wasn’t like she was lacking in spare time. Sometimes her decisions made no sense at all. 

“Yeah, I know.” Carmilla looked dejected. “I’ll pop it on there as soon as I have a second.” She said, which made her sound far busier than she was.

Laura softened. “I am free, anyway.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but she liked spending time with Carmilla, and she was willing to put everything else aside for her. 

She wanted to ask what Carmilla had in mind.

She wanted to ask if it was a waltzing lesson. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura starts to work for Carmilla three times a week. Theoretically, this is great, because Laura is crushing on Carmilla very, very hard. It's a little less great that she gets called in on her birthday, and thinks Carmilla probably doesn't want her to have a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments on the last chapter made me really happy. This one probably needed a bit more polishing, but I've been feeling eager to post it because it's a chapter I'm particularly proud of. Also, it's long, which is what you guys deserve, and it's taken the fic over 50k, officially making it the longest thing I've ever written. I hope you like it. After this, I've got fragments of scenes. Some are complete. The angsty ones. I just really like writing angst and the rest is just... filler until more angst comes along, I think. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It was just Laura’s luck that that the first time she was asked to Ghost three times in the same week, it would be on her birthday. She’d told Carmilla just days earlier and, perhaps unsurprisingly, Carmilla had forgotten - or worse, asked her on purpose, then reveled in Laura being unable to spend the day the way she wanted. Perhaps the princess in the high tower was jealous. Little did she know, that Laura’s idea of a perfect day was rapidly becoming any day when she was working for Carmilla. So, if Carmilla had requested out of sadism, her plan had spectacularly backfired.

It wasn’t that she wanted to sleep in on a Saturday morning - living with Perry ensured that that was never an option - but perhaps she might have liked to do something for _her_ , like arrange a picnic on the quad with other people from her course. Go back to the cafe’ she used to work in and see if they’d give her a free slice of cake, in addition to the one Perry would inevitably bake for her. Ask Danny out, even if Betty had advised against it, to keep up the pretense that she absolutely did not have feelings for her boss.

Instead, at 10 in the morning she was already on her way to the mansion, wearing a Quidditch shirt her dad had sent her as a gift, listening to the _Wicked_ cast recording that she had been unable to turn off ever since going to see the show. Her first Ghosting paycheck had finally been credited, and she’d treated herself to the blonde highlights she’d wanted to go back to. It was odd, how much of her self-confidence relied on such a small detail, but she felt good about herself for the first time in a long while. It was annoying how preoccupied she was with what Carmilla was going to think of them.

The concierge didn’t notice; then again, Laura walked past them far too quickly these days for them to ever say anything other than hello. She figured that the house was always so dark, chances were Carmilla wouldn’t realize she’d changed her hair either. She stopped worrying about that when she walked into the studio and found not just Carmilla, but LaFontaine too. Their ID badge was hanging around their neck, signaling they were here in an official capacity, and they were holding a closed laptop under one arm.

“Hi, LaF,” Laura said, a little taken aback.

LaFontaine grinned. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“...my birthday?” Laura asked. She’d forgotten to greet Carmilla, but she looked to her for support now. She was standing a few steps back, leaning against the wall that they used as their screen, with her arms crossed and that feral smirk playing on the corner of her lips.

“Ok, we might or might not have got you here with a trick.” Carmilla admitted. So it was true. Carmilla just didn’t want Laura to have fun on her birthday. She must have decided this when Laura told her over the headset the other day. “There’s no assignment for today. But LaF is here to do your one month review.”

LaFontaine raised their hand and waved as if they were meeting Laura for the first time.

“Oh.”  

Perhaps Laura didn’t quite have the best memory for dates - she did Journalism, not History, and she supposed that this wasn’t something that she should prepare for, but still. A heads up would have been appreciated. She liked to collect her thoughts before things like this, so she could sell herself as best as she could. What had been her biggest accomplishment so far? _Not walking out,_ a voice inside her brain said sarcastically. Was there anything she could do better? It was good to show that she believed in room for improvement. What were her weaknesses - pardon - opportunities? Not wanting to be more-than-friends with her boss came to mind.

Was Carmilla going to watch and participate? That was perhaps the biggest question of all.

“Let’s go to the living room. This place is not big enough for three.” LaF said, leading the way. Carmilla left the studio with them and headed downstairs, but this didn’t register with Laura, nervous as she was. It should be illegal to work on your birthday, let alone spend it having a review.  

They sat at the dining table - the same one she’d had her heart to heart with Carmilla just a week before. LaFontaine opened their laptop and brought up a document, but then turned to Laura and just asked.

“How’re you doing, frosh?”

“Like I’ve been ambushed by two people I should trust - well, I can’t say I trust Carmilla, but I didn’t expect this from you.”

“We wouldn’t have arranged it as a surprise if there was any possibility you wouldn’t pass it.” LaF smiled. “Plus it’s like, three questions. Question One: do you feel that you’ve received sufficient training to do this job?”

“You’re joking, right?”

LaFontaine’s face fell.

“You call a thirty minute trial _training_?"

“Well, you know, a lot of it is on-the-job learning.”

“In that case I’ve been trained plenty. I’ve learnt not to ask questions or I’ll be labeled a pest; learnt not to stay in the studio for too long, because apparently _I don’t get paid for talking to Carmilla_ ,” she said in a mocking tone.

“Well, Question Two was whether anything’s been getting in the way of you doing your job, but I think I can just pencil in ‘Will’ under that one.” LaFontaine rolled their eyes and set off typing.

“Well, actually,” Laura sighed, “Not being warned that Carm suffers from panic attacks, and being expected to deal with them like I’m trained or something. That’s… kind of got in the way, you could say. I could’ve done some serious damage, you know.”

LaFontaine pondered this, bound as they were by professional secrecy. As a scientist, they must’ve known Laura was right, surely. But they chose not to react or engage, and Laura added, “It makes me feel so useless.”

“Look, Laura, she shares what she wants. She decides when, and how. I’ll put this in the report, and she’ll obviously get to read it, and I know that she feels guilty already. I get that it took its toll on you, but it’s been a while now, since the last panic attack, hasn’t it?”

“No thanks to you,” Laura narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t want her to confide in me, and when she did, you almost resented her. And now you’re here saying that she shares what she wants, as if I don’t know that it was _you_ telling her not to. You, and Will, and god knows who else. Maybe this mysterious sister that I knew nothing about until, like, two days ago. Everyone is always, _oh, we have to protect Laura from the truth, poor little Laura, she…”_

A grin was not the response she expected from LaFontaine as she went on her little tirade. She was finally letting out how frustrated she’d been feeling for weeks, and calling out LaF on being far too breezy dealing with all this, and they just confirmed how unimportant it all was to them by smiling. At something… behind her.

Laura looked over her shoulder to see what had suddenly caught LaF’s attention, and was gobsmacked to find Carmilla just standing there, all leather and lace, carrying an actual cupcake on a plate, with a candle on top. The plate itself was resting on top of a gift wrapped in glittery paper. For all the awkward moments they’d had between them, this had to be the most bizarre.

“Happy birthday, creampuff.” Carmilla smiled.

LaFontaine suppressed a giggle.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious.” Laura wanted to laugh, but it came out more like a sputter. She covered her face with both her hands and was not surprised to find that her cheeks were burning up. “Guys, you shouldn’t have.”

Whose idea had that been?? Her money was on LaF, but her heart wanted it to be Carmilla so badly.

“You genuinely thought we’d forget your birthday when it’s on all of my forms?” LaFontaine asked. “The review’s real, though. It’s definitely real.” They hastened to add, which reminded Laura that she was supposed to be _angry_ right now. Angry. Not... excited.

Carmilla walked up to Laura’s chair and held on to the plate with one hand whilst delicately placing the present on the table with the other. Laura lifted her gaze to the pale arm that had just appeared next to her face, and followed it down to Carmilla’s hand, sporting the rings that Laura had bought for her a month ago. She turned to her other side in time to see Carmilla set the plate in front of her.

“Make a wish.” The words were whispered directly in her ear and Laura visibly shivered. She caught LaFontaine’s entertained look out the corner of her eye and scowled at them.

And suddenly it didn’t seem so impossible any more to do what Perry had asked and take a picture of the three of them. She took her phone out of her pocket and grabbed LaF by their shirt to pull them closer, then, without asking for permission, she held her phone as far from them as her arm would reach and said “Look up, guys!” as she blindly felt for the middle button with her finger. Then she blew out her candle.

She flipped her phone back to check that the picture was clear enough, and smiled secretly to herself that she now had a photo of Carmilla to look at - just so that she could feel even worse about her unrequited crush. No complaints came from either of the other two, just LaFontaine, shouting excitedly, “Open your present!”

=

The present was a Tardis-shaped mug.

How on earth did either LaFontaine or Carmilla know that she’d always wanted one was beyond her. It was Carmilla who actually offered, “You’re not exactly subtle when you’re out and about, cupcake. You stared at that on at least three separate occasions - especially when you went to the Sunday market.” She was still standing right behind Laura, holding on to the back of the chair. Her hair was still tickling Laura’s shoulders.

Laura didn’t remember asking for _torture_ for her birthday.

As if reading her mind, Carmilla finally moved and took the seat to her right. She perched herself up on the footrest and brought her knees up to her chest. The girl really did not get along with chairs. Laura turned to look at her.

“But how did you get it? You don’t… you never leave the house?”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Amazon is a thing.”

LaFontaine theatrically pointed at their own face with both hands and shouted, “Amazon!”

Laura turned to look at them and burst out laughing. “Thanks, LaF.”

“Okay, maybe LaF owed me a favour and they went to get it for me.” Carmilla tilted her head.

LaFontaine slammed their laptop shut. “That’s your day done, kiddo. There’s no Ghosting to do today - you can go back home to your friends and party however you see fit. Carm and I will have a little chat about your review,” they put a hand up and stopped Laura protesting, “Nothing to worry about!! Then I’ll be on my way too.”

Laura stared at LaFontaine for a moment longer than appropriate, conflicted by her instinct to hug them when they’d so blatantly provoked her during a review they hadn’t even bothered to finish. She weighed that against the kindness they’d shown her on her birthday, going to buy her a present on behalf of Carmilla, almost being her Ghost for the day, when Laura was only a little more than a stranger.

Her momentum made LaFontaine stumble backwards, but they did welcome the hug and squeezed back with a grin. Laura let go, and turned to look at Carmilla, wanting to fling herself at her in much the same way, but feeling rooted to the spot, especially with LaF watching mere steps away. Laura searched Carmilla’s eyes for some sort of invitation, but she did not find one there, even though her gaze was soft and she was smiling gently. All things considered, it was fair. She didn’t want to hug Carmilla for the first time ever with an audience, either.

“Thanks, Carm.” She murmured, trying to keep the volume so low that LaF wouldn’t hear the nickname - even though they’d been the first to use it.

Carmilla’s smile never left her lips. “Have a good day, creampuff.” 


End file.
